


The Rites of the Shewolf

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Aphrodisiacs, Body Modification, Bondage, Breastfeeding, Cock Cages, Come Swallowing, Dark Magic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, Dick Girl, Double Penetration, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, F/F, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Futanari, Genital Piercing, Girl Penis, Group Sex, Heavy Angst, Humiliation, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Magic, Magic-Users, Marathon Sex, Milking, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Piercings, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Other, Overstimulation, Piercings, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Priest Kink, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ritual Public Sex, Rituals, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Magic, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Triple Penetration, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Every fifty years men and women are chosen to participate in year long rites and rituals to honor the Goddess of life and fertility. An ordinary girl finds herself plucked out of a dull ordinary life, and thrust into the year-long sexual rites and rituals of the Lady's Church. But everything is not quite as it seems.___DEAD DOVE, PLEASE READ THE TAGSThis is just some horny drabble because I wanted to write a kinky story about priests having a lot of sex...
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 7
Kudos: 106
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Rite of the New Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is a bit rough and/or rushed.
> 
> If you still haven't yet, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: PLEASE READ THE TAGS!!!!!

It was starting to get dark when they came for her, the middle of the night. Freya knew it would happen; it happened every fifty years. But the last time it happened she was not yet born. All she had to go off - all anyone had really - were stories and what the church permitted them to know.

Perhaps it was a sort of coping mechanism, her forgetting all the lessons and stories, her mind's way of letting her live a normal life until the day finally came. But every young woman was aware of what this day meant, even if they chose to ignore it.

She hadn't expected it to be so violent and frightening, though.

She didn't know what she expected if she was honest. They didn't really explain very much to base-born maids. Though she went to church, sang the songs, attended the ceremonies, and made her offerings to the Lady, she didn't really _know_ very much about it. She could read, an uncommon trait among the lower class, but the last time she'd tried to read the book of strictures she's been a girl in the days when the church had sheltered her when she was only newly an orphan.

But she'd just been a girl. She'd just lost her family and very little of what she'd been taught by the church had stuck. She was taken away not long after. She was a pretty girl with dark hair and unusual amber eyes, and a mild temper that made her ideal for serving in the house of any lord or lady in need of a handmaid.

Since being taken in by Lord and Lady Ansel her life had been dull as ditch-water. She woke, she did her chores, she waited on Lady Ansel, she went to sleep. There was nothing beyond that ever-consistent monotony and she found she neither liked nor disliked it. She was clever enough to know her circumstances were unlikely to change, and if they did it would most certainly be for the worse. She'd heard tales of nobility that took advantage of their staff, especially the young and naïve, but neither Lord or Lady Ansel had laid a finger on her, either in violence or in lust. They were God fearing folk and they utilized the services the church offered to cleanse them of their vices, should the need arise.

They even resisted letting the priests take her at first. She'd always thought the Lady Ansel was quite fond of her, more so than she was of any of her other servants at any rate. But one look from a rather tall and well muscled priest silenced her protests.

So they dragged Freya out, a priest gripping tightly to each arm. She was too afraid to even make a sound beyond the occasional gasp or hiccup. She didn't even cry, she simply froze. It was like they were dragging away a violent criminal though she was only a slip of a thing. She still had a figure that was more on the girlish side and was often mistaken as younger than she was, though her breasts and hips were finally starting to fill out (rather late for someone of her age) and she had noticed some of the men on staff staring… Still, she was hardly a physical threat to anyone.

As they piled her into a boxed carriage - one with narrow, barred windows and a lock on the door - she wondered how they found people like her. She remembered something about magical assistance; a spell or an enchanted compass - something of the like. Somehow, they _knew_ who had the potential they needed, for not just anyone was fit for the rite. She wondered then, what it was that made her one of the "Chosen"…

Once inside she found the back of the wagon empty, though the space was large enough to hold several others. She thought perhaps she was the first then. Surely it was a waste to carry just her.

But as the wagon drove on for what seemed like hours, they made no further stops. It was just her sitting in the dark, with nothing but the sound of the wheels churning and the occasional huff or whinny from the horses to keep her company. Freya's mind continued to wonder as she looked out the narrow windows. She saw tall buildings and lit streetlamps go by. They were going further into the city. As she watched it all in a daze, she began to wonder…

Why hadn't she paid more attention to the priests at the orphanage? Why her? Why did no one tell her what this day truly meant. She knew the Ansels knew what was to take place. She could see it written all over their faces as they watched her get dragged away. They had a strange mixture of pity and excitement in their eyes that only served to frighten her more.

When the wagon finally came to a stop a different priest opened the door, a kinder looking one. He was younger than the others, and she saw that same pity in his eyes as he beckoned her out. She hesitated, though she knew she had nowhere else to go. When she finally moved to the exit, the priest took her hand gently and helped her out.

In the light of the church lanterns she could see he was not as young as she had first thought, perhaps a few years older than her. He was remarkably handsome, beautiful even. It was clear even beneath his robes that he was as well built as the goliath's that had dragged her away, but he had such gentle, perfectly sculpted features so as not to look like a brute. She supposed it served the church well to have such angelic servants in their employ. Everyone was more willing to believe and follow someone with such a kind, lovely face.

"Welcome, Freya," he said sounding almost as nervous. Perhaps the current priests were as uncomfortable or unfamiliar with this right as she was. "I know this is all very… strange. I am Acolyte Arrawn. I will be your handler through all of this. Here to help you through the various rites and expectations, as well as ensure you are well taken care of.

_"Handler,"_ like she's some kind of animal or livestock…

"Do you - are you familiar with the Goddess's rites? It's alright if you are not, many have only a surface level knowledge of it, and fewer still know the specifics outside of the Church." He still spoke soft and hesitantly. At first, she thought he was trying not to spook her, but now she was beginning to think he was just as terrified as she was. And yet he at least knew what was in store for her and she did not… This did not bode well.

"I am not, sir. I was taught a little while in the care of the Church, as an orphan. But I have had very little experience with the Church's teachings in the Ansel household beyond what is common." The calmness with which she spoke surprised even her.

The priest - her handler - looked taken aback. "That is… unexpected. The Ansels are such a pious family."

"Do many of the nobility take the time to teach their staff and servants piety? To read them the strictures?" It was a jab. She spoke as calmly and neutrally as she had before. But the priest still looked more concerned now than when they'd begun.

"No, its just - well I'll have to remedy that I suppose," he looked away from her finally. Watching him clearly get more uncomfortable by the minute, Freya took a sliver of pleasure from it. Based on his reactions, and the manner in which she was brought here she had a feeling she would not be put in this position very often moving forward.

"Come with me then, I shall explain what I can along the way," he said turning back to her, renewed determination written upon his face. He was bracing himself for something and Freya decided she must do her best to brace herself as well.

The moment they stepped inside Freya couldn't help but marvel at the lavishness of the great stone building. Vast halls, exquisite furnishings, and wonderous architecture. She had never set foot in this cathedral before today. The orphanage she'd been taken in by was small and modest, on the outskirts of the city where the poor little orphan children would not be too much of an eyesore. When she was taken in by the Ansels she had thought they must live in the picture of luxury. But the Ansels home was nothing compared to this…

Her awe at her surroundings almost distracted her from the priest's monologue, but she needed to listen. The grandeur of the Church could wait. "First you will be taken to be cleaned and examined. Are you still a virgin, Freya?"

"Yes," she answered automatically, and the priest darted her a look of surprise. She knew she was rather old to still be a virgin. Most women her age either had a sweetheart or had participated in the more involved church ceremonies at least once by this point. But she'd found she'd had very little room for sex in her life, despite it being such a large part of the Church which worshipped a Goddess of life and fertility.

Freya had expected that whatever this was would involve sex and even now she wasn’t sure exactly how she felt about it. There was fear lurking somewhere in the back of her mind which she was trying desperately to suppress. But there was also a mixture of excitement, shame and confusion that left her so overwhelmed, after a while she felt only numbness.

"Oh, uh - no matter. That is rare, but you need not fear. You will not lie with anyone tonight, but you will be filled... Our priests will be as gentle as possible, though there is always some… discomfort the first time." Her handler cleared his throat, still apparently quite nervous. "While you are being cleaned you will be given wolfweed. Quite a large dose is required for this rite as your body is required to undergo physical changes in order to prepare you for your year of service. You may feel disoriented, almost drunk. It will also serve to numb you from some of the pain as your nipples and labia are pierced."

Freya had to scoff. Or perhaps it was a hysterical laugh? Either way the irony of going from being a completely inexperienced virgin to fully kitted out like one of the Church's Drones was not lost on her. The priest gave her another uncertain sidelong look but did not comment on her outburst, deciding instead to continue with this recitation of what the night had in store for her.

"Once your body is fully prepared you will be taken to the Chamber of the Moon with the other Chosen. You will all be restrained and harnessed so that you may gaze upon the blackened sky as the rite is performed. The Acolytes and Hunters will then proceed to stimulate you through the implements in your vagina and asshole, as well as your clitoris. After tonight the implements will be removed and the Hunters will take you for the remaining two days. You will be cleaned and fed, but you will not be released until dawn ends the third night." He paused then, waiting for a reaction but he received none. There was so much to take in, but she didn't have the energy to even protest. What good would it do? She couldn't run - there was no where for her go, no friends she could turn to. Not that any good, law abiding citizen would defy the Church anyway…

Without a reaction from her the priest continued. "At the end of the third night we will know which of the Chosen is the Shewolf, the one who must carry out the Rite of Rebirth at the end of the year. She will be exalted, cherished, and worshipped. The rest of the Chosen will be her Handmaidens, they are to serve and aid her throughout the year."

They came to a stop then, before a large oak door. Her handler turned towards her, the look of concern that had been plastered all over his face, now somehow more present than ever before. He was quite young for a priest, she thought. He's probably just nervous, this being his first time with such an important rite. "We will begin once we pass through this door. Is there anything you'd like to ask before we proceed? Any concerns or questions? Worries even?"

Freya almost barked out another laugh, but she managed to restrain herself. Her mind was swimming with questions and concerns, but rather than voice them she simply shook her head silently. Her priest looked at her with shocked skepticism, the corners of his mouth turning down ever so slightly. "Very well," he sighed. "Let us carry on then."

Beyond the oak door was a bath chamber and waiting for them there was a pair of young women that Freya assumed were some kind of servants or novices - dressed plainly in simple grey robes. Standing just behind them was a stately looking man and woman. They were older, their hair greying, and their robes were finer, featuring elaborate embroidery and spun of higher quality material, but in the same somber grey as the young women. "These are our doctors and healers, Acolyte Lynea and Acolyte Efraim," Arrawn introduced them and they gave a short bow in Freya's direction.

Without any direction the two young women stepped forward and handed her a bowl of leaves that Freya expected she was meant to eat so she did, ignoring the bitter taste they left in her mouth. When she was done, the girls immediately started removing Freya's clothing until she was stripped completely bare, gooseflesh erupting across her skin as she stood there in the drafty chamber. As one guided her to a waiting bath, the other took her belongings and tossed them into a large brazier.

Freya watched as her handler moved to speak with the two doctors. She strained to hear but could not make out the words over the sloshing of water as the young women scrubbed her down, touching every part of her without ceremony or hesitation.

At one point they pulled her out of the water, and while she was still dripping, bade her to sit upon a bench, legs spread so they could completely remove her pubic hair. They then had her bend over with her forearms braced upon a stone bench. Freya felt something slick drip down upon the crease above her rear, then gentle fingers massaging it into the pucker of her asshole. "Try to relax," one of them said softly before inserting something into the hilt. Then she felt a rush of warm liquid filling her up and she gasped in spite of herself.

"Now hold that in a moment," the girl said as she removed the implement and the second went to pull a bucket beneath Freya's rear. "Alright now release. You're doing very well. Just three more times."

This was all so strange, but Freya did as they bade her to without a word until she'd been filled and emptied three more times. She was starting to feel strange - dizzy, her mind foggy - the effects of the herbs Arrawn had told her about. They then guided her back to the bath and cleaned her off one last time.

After they'd dried her off, they applied scented oils to her hair, worked them into her skin, and then stepped back as the doctors commenced their examination. She stood their as they poked and prodded - checked her mouth, her teeth, her eyes. They weighed her breasts, checking for any lumps or abnormalities and then finally sat her down upon a bench with a reclined back, had the young women hold her legs open and then proceeded to examine her sex and her ass hole.

"A virgin indeed," the old man exclaimed. "I don’t think we had even one the last time." He spread her lower lips and flicked the little nub at her apex causing her to gasp again. It was like lightning had struck her there. She couldn't remember being this sensitive before tonight… This caused the doctor to grin in a way that made Freya want to cringe away, but she resisted, too dazed or too confused to know how to react.

"Don’t tease her, Efraim," the female doctor chided and stroked Freya's hair like she was a skittish horse. "She's got a big night ahead of her already."

Efraim sighed reluctantly but did as he was ordered. "Everything seems in order down here. Time for the finishing touches," he exclaimed as he pulled out a case from his robes.

The girls set her legs down for a moment and went to bring over a table with an assortment of bottles and vials. The two doctors began to prepare their needles, cleansing them and then dousing them in some other kind of oil. The female doctor, Lynea, explained what they were about to do. She seemed more sympathetic to Freya in general. "You will receive a piercing to both your nipples and three to each side of your labia. This oil will make it more pleasurable for you, and the wolfweed you were given should also help with some of the discomfort, but you may still feel some pain. But you needn't worry. Efraim and I will see you fully healed before we send you on your way so there should be no soreness when you begin the rite. It will be as if you've always had them."

This did not really ease her mind, but she had little time to think it over before Efraim pierced her with the first needle to her nipple. There was another shock of pain, but it was accompanied by a wave of pleasure that sent her shuddering as the two young women held her down to the chair. Before she knew it she had two silver rings dangling from each breast.

When they started on her labia Freya found she was panting. Each of the six piercings sent another trill of pleasure-pain throughout her like waves of fire that coiled and pulsed in her core. She'd felt arousal before. She'd even touched herself on a few occasions to get a little release, but none of it had ever felt like this. It was intoxicating, almost overpowering.

When the doctors were done, stopping any bleeding and tending any swelling or soreness with a healing spell, she had six matching silver rings in her labia. Is if needing to test if they were fit purpose, Efraim looped his fingers through each of them and pulled them apart, opening her up for the room to bear witness. "Lovely," he exclaimed. "Your quite lucky, Arrawn. I think you have a promising one on your hands. Look how wet she is already, and she hasn't even been exposed to the incense."

Freya's eyes finally drifted back to her handler for the first time since she'd entered the chamber, and she was surprised to see a flush upon his face as he seemed to be struggling to remain composed. Perhaps it was the wolfweed, but he looked even lovelier now than he had earlier. She hadn't noticed how tall he was, or quite how well built - muscular but not overly so. He had such lovely wavy dark hair that ended just at his jaw. She found she wanted to touch it, run her fingers through it. She wanted to touch him.

Before her errant thoughts could run away with her one of the young women was rubbing more oil over her asshole and then inserting a bulbous metallic object inside her slowly. It was bigger than the first implement, quite a lot bigger, but rather than clench and resist she found her body relaxing to accept it. "That's very good," Lynea soothed, stroking her hair again. "You're such a good girl. I'm sure the Goddess will be pleased with you, such a sweet thing."

Freya could only moan as the thing was pushed further and further inside her. She felt like she was on fire, burning to be filled.

"Better get on with it and fill her up, girls. It's nearly time," Efraim spoke as if on cue. And with that the object in her ass was inserted to the hilt and left there.

The girls then wasted no time grabbing the next implement. It was shaped more like a phallus than the first, made of metal and quite long. Once again, she was oiled up before it was inserted agonizingly slowly. There was pain, but as with everything else this night it was also pleasure, and it was maddening. "Very good, girls!" Lynea marvelled as they worked. "No blood, no tearing. Give her a few gentle thrusts so she may be more acclimated and then we can send her and Arrawn on their way.

The girls did as instructed, moving the rod in and out slow and steady before leaving it embedded inside her to the hilt. They then strapped it to something that connected to her thighs and waist to keep it inside her before helping her to her feet. Freya found it difficult to stand now that she was filled and drugged and so terribly hot…

Arrawn stepped forward to steady her and she clung to him wantonly. She wanted his touch, his lips on her skin. But he only looked at her with concern and then righted her as best he could before leading her out of the chamber.

Their journey to the Chamber of the Moon went by in a blur. Her priest did not speak this time, apparently focussed on getting her there in one piece without letting her tumble to the floor. When they arrived, she found seven other girls with their own priests already in the chamber as they were being bound and harnessed into strange apparatuses. Arrawn guided them over a vacant one and began to do the same for Freya.

The room was large and octagonal with a large peaked ceiling. Braziers burned all around the room, filling the air with a thick herbal smoke - the incense they had spoken of earlier. Vacantly, she wondered if there were always eight Chosen when the time of the rite came, or was that just a coincidence this year?

She was not so out of her mind yet that she didn't notice that beneath the haze of lust and arousal that afflicted them all, each woman had a look of excitement upon their faces. They looked pleased to be here, to be "Chosen".

Arrawn walked her onto a platform in front of her own strange metal frame. Her hands were bound behind her back, then her waist, neck and arms were harnessed into the frame. Her legs were then harnessed onto protruding beams by her thighs and ankles that held her legs spread wide and open. Lastly small chains were attached to each silver piercing she had just received, left to dangle low, the chains pooling on the ground beneath her.

When she was fully bound to the strange apparatus Arrawn moved out of sight and she heard cranking followed shortly by the frame being raised slightly and tilted back so she was looking up at the ceiling of the chamber. Soon she heard the other frames holding the other Chosen women creaking as they too were raised up and angled towards the ceiling.

As the sound of the mechanisms vanished a new mechanical sound erupted from above. The ceiling had started to open up, revealing a black moonless sky. Then came the sound of more people entering the now open chamber. From the sound of the numerous footfalls, there were quite a few people joining them in the chamber. The footfalls grew quiet, she could hear someone come to a stop before her and she looked down from gazing at the sky she found a number of priests standing around the edges of the room, and men, as naked as she and the other Chosen were, one standing before each of them. They looked as eager as the women had, each one eyeing the woman before him.

They were all physically impressive - strong and lean and young. The one before her was quite good looking but not as handsome as her priest. Still her blood stirred to life as their eyes met, and the heat in her belly started to rise again.

The priests around them started chanting - or was it singing? It was somewhere in the middle, but she didn't have time to ponder it before the man before her stepped forward, his mouth closing over the folds of her sex as his tongue began to lap vigorously at her clit. She came almost immediately, already so riled up from everything else that had led up to this moment, and by the sound of things the rest of the women were in much the same predicament.

The man between her legs did not let up as she came. He simply kept working her with his tongue. She came again only moments later; the haze of the incense made the air around her feel heavy and intoxicating. Every breath felt laboured. The droning of the priests' song made it difficult to hear her own thoughts. Then he started tugging on the chains attached to her nipples or working the metal rod they'd left inside her channel, now slick with her own juices as well as the oil.

He fucked her with the rod while his tongue did its work until she came again and again. Each time it was like a little piece of herself was falling away. She forgot where she was, why she was here. She forgot where she'd been before this. She forgot her own name. She was nothing but electrified nerve endings, wet, and wanton, and falling up into the deep endless blackness that loomed above her.

She didn't know how many times she was made to come before the sun rose, illuminating the chamber in hues of orange and gold. Normally she would have paused to take in its beauty, savour it, but there was a man between her legs, licking around the pucker of her asshole just before he slid a finger inside her, and then she was coming again.

She didn't know what to call what she felt now. It wasn't pleasure, but closer to a cousin of pain. It was too much and too fast, but her body craved it, whatever _it_ was at this point.

Overstimulated and exhausted, eventually Freya slipped into unconsciousness while the man below continued his work, the priests continued to chant, and the wolfweed continued to burn.

* * *

When she woke next it was after midday. Someone was wiping her down with a damp cloth. There was a sweep over her brow, across her face and down until it was moving across her entire body. It took her a moment to realize the metal implements they'd inserted in her had been removed. It wasn't until the cloth passed between her legs, over her mound and worked between her folds that she was certain.

Her whole body felt sore, but there most of all. She felt overworked and overused. Working for the Ansels there had been hard days. Days where she ended up dead on her feet by the time she trudged up to her room, but those days were nothing compared to this. She was spent in ever sense of the word. Surely, she had nothing left to give, and yet her priest had said there would be two more days of this…

"Ah, you're awake," she said and blinked her eyes open to see him looking down at her. The apparatus they'd strapped her into had been lowered so he could work on her and he now hovered above her as he continued to wipe away the mess between her legs. "You're doing very well. Very well," he continued gently. Though she could clearly see the lust in his eyes, his touch was almost reverent, chaste.

"You're already showing signs of the change," he said as he passed the cloth over her clit and she shuddered. It felt… wrong, swollen, and sensitive and too… big? But she couldn't angle her head in such a way that she could see for herself. It must just be a result of too much stimulation.

Her priest passed the cloth over it again gently and a keening sound left her lips. She wanted more - she wanted _him_. But that wasn't right. After last night she never wanted any of this again. But the choice wasn't hers. He looked embarrassed at her reactions, but he continued anyway until he drew out yet another strained and painful orgasm. Her clit pulsed maddeningly, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she trembled against her bonds. "Very good," he said as she came down in with gasps and tremors that wracked her whole frame. He sounded strained himself, like this was as much torture for him as it was for her.

He moved to grab her breast and squeeze it gently until beads of milk appears and then started to dribble down her skin. "See you're already lactating." As he spoke his voice and his movements were carefully neutral, mechanical. "Lynea and Efraim, they think - well, perhaps I should leave that for later. It's best to wait until we know for certain."

He finished washing her down and then gave her some water and a thin broth. How she was expected to survive on such meager rations she didn't know, but neither did she care anymore. If she were to die of exhaustion before this was over perhaps that would be a blessing…

"Be strong," Arrawn said, giving her shoulder a squeeze before moving out of sight again.

The frame she was tied to tilted all the way back so she was lying back looking up at the sky. The roof of the chamber had been closed slightly so Freya and the other Chosen would not burn beneath the unforgiving rays of sunlight. Then she heard them, the priests and the men returning. Once again they set about their task rather quickly. This time however two men came to her, one standing at her head the other between her legs.

She could not see the one between her legs, but she could feel him press something between her lower lips, something fleshy, not metal, this time, and warm. Then it was inside her, and he was thrusting into her fast and hard and groaning as he did so. A moment later the one at her head removed part of the frame that had been holding her head aloft, so her head fell back and gave him access and leverage to push himself into her mouth and deep down her throat.

He was gentler than his companion and she found her throat relaxing rather readily to accept his invading cock within her throat and mouth considering she'd never taken a cock in her mouth before in her life. Rather than triggering her gag reflex as she would have expected, her tongue started to lave the hard hot flesh of his penis, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin, sucking on him as though she expected to receive the nectar of life from its swollen head. She moaned around him, unable to resist him, wanting more of him - of both of them, and they answered her moans with their own.

Part of her new this was strange, and _wrong_ , but once again she was being overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled, of being pleasured - such as it was. All she could do was lie there, bound and fucked until she was senseless, until there was come dripping from her lips and her cunt, and the next two men came to replace the ones that came before.

On and on it went until at some point the sun had vanished, and she had climaxed on so many cocks she could hardly think straight. This time she did not fall unconscious before seeing her priest again. Her lovely, beautiful priest.

He looked at her with pain and pity and longing as he washed her down again, gave her water and broth, and tried to soothe her with gentle words. She barely paid attention but to listen to the sound of his voice. Freya liked the sound of his voice. It at least distracted her from the soreness in her limbs, the heat in her core, the strange swollen heaviness she felt between her folds.

She didn't know this man, didn't trust him, but he was kind and beautiful, and it was stupid, but it was enough… for now.

* * *

Freya didn't really remember what happened during or after the second night. It all started to blur together in a fog of lust and sex, incense and smoke, sweat and come. The faces of the men that had her, the priests that stood around them and sang or chanted or cleaned the Chosen all blurred together. She even forgot her beautiful priest for a time. But his eyes always got through to her eventually. His pretty green eyes - the only eyes that looked upon her with sorrow and pity.

What finally brought her at least partially out of her stupor - enough to recognize something was about to happen - was when they stopped touching her. No one touched her or any of the other women for at least an hour. The naked men left, but the priests remained, their chant carrying up and out of the chamber, into the night air.

While she had been bathed before this pause, she was so full of the spend of her many lovers that it still dripped from between her legs. And now that she had neither cock nor implements filling her, she felt empty, incomplete. Her lust dripped from her sex even now, mixing with the come, and dripping to the stone tiles below her.

Her fellow Chosen were no different, moaning and writing in their bonds. All clearly wracked with the same sense of painful need that tormented her. But as the night drew on Freya noticed they were looking towards her, eyeing her with mingled awe and curiosity, and in some cases a hint of jealousy. Eventually she realized it was her groin they were primarily fixated on, but still she could not angle her head to see herself.

She knew something was wrong. Part of her had known since after that first night but she had tried to ignore it. Something was different, something was _not right_.

Abruptly the song of the priests came to a lull though it did not dissipate entirely, simply dulled to a low, melodic murmur. Doors creaked open out of her sightline, and then in walked a procession of lavishly decorated priests, Lynea and Efraim included in their number. They moved about the chamber, going to each of the Chosen, starting with the girl on Freya's left.

Each young woman was anointed with a circle of lavender oil upon their brow, before a crown of peach and orange blossoms was placed on their heads. As the procession moved on to the next of the Chosen, their respective handler would begin unbinding them from the frame so they could be tended.

As Freya watched this all unfold a sinking sense of dread began to settle over her. She was last in line for the procession, and she knew what that would mean. Glancing to her side she saw Arrawn watching them with a similar sense of dread evident in his gaze. He did not look at her, not once while they made their way around the room.

When the decorated priests finally stopped before her, eyes wide with wonder as they traced over her body, lingering on her groin, Freya shuddered. "Get her down from there, there's a good lad, Arrawn," said an older man with a greying beard, hard grey eyes, and the finest robes of the lot.

Arrawn did has he was told and then helped Freya to remain on her feet while Lynea and Efraim stepped forward. Freya's head lolled, tiling forwards so she was looking at the floor. Then a hand, Lynea's by the look of it grabbed something between her legs, at the apex of her thighs where there should have been nothing and the blood in her veins instantly ran cold.

As her eyes drifted to what was in Lynea's hand, she could finally see what had felt so wrong all this time. Where her clitoris should have been, she now had an elongated phallus, small but she had seen enough cocks over the past few days to know one when she saw one. She even had petite little testicles nestled beneath it, just above her vagina.

The doctor's hands roved over her new flesh, stroking her gently until she became hard in their clinical hands. Lynea massaged her little balls, watching as Freya became flushed and started panting under their ministrations. Her breasts even began to leak milk the more aroused she became. They continued to prod and poke her - sticking fingers in her crease and asshole until she came from each. They were trying to get a specific reaction she could tell but she didn't know what until Lynea gasped with excitement.

"There it is!" she exclaimed, wiping a bead of precome from the tip of Freya's little cock. "She's not quite ready, but she's well on her way. A day or two at most. Her feminine parts are intact, but she now has the beginnings of fully functional penis and testicles, Your Grace."

"Such a marvelous blessing after a hard fifty years. It is truly a sign from the Goddess herself, that she smiles upon us for this year's rite," the man Freya assumed to be the High Priest, began, turning to his procession. "We have been given a true Shewolf this year, as you can all plainly see. She is a gift, the first of her kind we have received in over three centuries. She is to be respected and cherished.

"Handmaidens," he turned to the rest of the chosen now. "Your duty is to serve her. Keep her comfortable and cared for. See to her every need. For the next few days, you must help encourage the fulfilment of her transformation. Take pleasure in her and in each other. Honor her above all others. After the next few days there will be much to learn and prepare."

Then he finally turned to her. It was if she wasn't there beyond this new growth between her legs until now. "Blessed Shewolf," he said, a joyous grin smeared across his face. "You honor us with your service."

That was it. That was all she got before the frame she'd just been freed from started to move and change into a new shape, which she was promptly strapped back into so that her arms still were still tied behind her, but her ankles were now bound together, leaving her new little cock and balls out for all to see or touch or lick.

And her newly appointed Handmaidens did just that, eagerly… As the High Priest's group stepped aside, Freya was swarmed as the Handmaidens hands roved over her weary flesh. Hands caressed, stroked and squeezed. Mouths pressed kisses to her lips her neck, her breasts. They latched onto her nipples and suckled until she was crying out for more. Others still had already taken her little cocklet into their mouths and had started to suck and lick. They stuck their fingers in her ass and her pussy until she was coming for them in every possible way she could.

It was overwhelming. It was wonderful. It was torture.

She didn't feel human anymore. She'd likened herself to an animal that first night when Arrawn had said he was to be her handler, and perhaps she had been more right back then than she realized. She was their Shewolf, torn from one life of peaceful servitude, to a new one of built upon terrifying excess and decadence.

* * *

Two more days of overstimulation went by and Freya merely drifted in and out of consciousness for all of it. Her bodily needs must have been met throughout for she still lived, though she was tired and sore, and weak.

She vaguely remembered the Handmaidens being dismissed. The absence of their pawing and poking, fingers and tongues, teeth and lips - it was difficult for her to miss, even in her weakened state.

She remembered Arrawn letting her down, impossibly gentle as always. Once again, he spoke softly to her as he worked but she registered hardly any of it as words. She was too tired and far beyond defeated.

Unlike the last times, he didn't clean her there in the ritual chamber. When she was free of her bindings, Arrawn lifted her into his arms like she weighed no more than a leaf and carried her through the halls until they reached a small, quiet room where a bath had already been prepared. He placed her into the warm water gently, uncaring of whether his clothing was soaked in the process and then he proceeded to bathe her just as the two girls had that first night.

Unlike those girls, however, every touch carried that same reverence with it that Freya had noticed before. The High Priest had spoken of how she was a gift to be honored and cherished. She knew, somehow, that Arrawn really did. It wasn't a play or a farce. He wasn't going through the motions. He really did think she was some kind of holy thing.

Abruptly he stopped what he was doing to brush something from her cheek. Freya blinked, glancing away from where her eyes had been fixed upon nothing in particular on the wall before her. Looking up at her priest she watched him frown, and saw sorrow reflected in his pretty green eyes. "Do not weep, please Freya."

She blinked again and wiped at her eyes, though her wet hands did nothing to prove or disprove his observation. She didn't know why she wept, but she suspected it was because she truly felt as though she'd lost part of herself in all of this - maybe all of herself. She wasn't Freya. Even her body was no longer the one she knew. She was the Church's Shewolf. She may have had few prospects before, working in the Ansel's house. Now she had none but to serve the Goddess's rite.

She looked down then, finally, at her new appendage. Her little cock was not so little anymore, and she realised that was why they had left her bound in that chamber. They needed her transformation to run its course. She felt another part of herself slip away as she looked at it, so she dragged her eyes away, returning them to the comforting sterility of the stone wall.

Before being taken, it had often been remarked upon how very calm she was. Almost unnaturally placid and adaptable. She hadn't ever thought much of it. Her life had been so dull and ordinary that she had very little to get excited over one way or the other. The only thing that had struck her with any great impact was the loss of her parents. After that she'd thought it best not to care for anything that deeply again. It could only lead to heartache and pain.

And then she lost even more, more than she'd thought possible, and that pain was back and worse than ever. No matter how much of herself she felt falling away there always seemed to be more for her to lose…

"It's only a year and then you'll be free," he started to speak again, it sounded as though his reassurances were as much for him as they were for her. "I'll do whatever I have to keep you… safe, cared for. To - to protect you."

"You can't do that," she said finally and Arrawn almost jumped out of his skin. It was as though he hadn't expected to hear her voice for some time. "I don't know the specifics of what they have planned for me, but I can see your choice has about as much to do with it as mine does, which is to say, none at all."

"They didn't tell me either," he blurted. "They didn't tell me what would happen to you. The - the changes... Not until after it had already begun."

"Does that not seem strange to you?"

"I wasn't meant to be your handler. The Acolyte that was originally assigned to you died rather suddenly. I only just took my vows a few weeks before you arrived and was immediately asked to take his place. Only Acolytes know all the rites of the Goddess." He looked away form her, his cheeks red with embarrassment and shame.

Freya didn't know how this made her feel. She didn't know if she could feel anything anymore beyond the lust that now seemed to rule her body, if not her mind. Even now, weary as she was, having him this close to her - her beautiful priest - made heat pool in her core, and her cock start to stand to attention.

She squirmed in the water, clenching her legs together in an effort to keep these wretched feelings at bay. But a sound must have escaped her, and Arrawn quickly recognized what was happening. "I can fetch someone for you," he offered, his voice strangely cold all of a sudden.

"What?"

"Your Handmaidens or a Hunter, one of the men from the rite. It's their duty to tend you," he explained simply.

"No," she replied firmly.

He softened then, some of the coldness leaving him as abruptly as it had arrived. "Are you - are you sure?" he asked.

"I don’t want them." She knew the answer to what she was about to ask but she asked it anyway. "You're not permitted to touch me, are you? Not like that."

"No."

Of course. Of course, the one person she might actually want was forbidden to her. She knew it was not healthy to want him, not under these circumstances, but she did. It was likely another coping mechanism of sorts. Latching onto the only person who showed her any hint of kindness, any notion that they understood what this was doing to her.

They sat there in awkward silence until Arrawn finally resumed his task, finishing her bath by washing her hair. His fingers were long and graceful. As they wove through her hair, untangling the mess he worked in oils that smelled of orange and rosemary, massaging it into her scalp until she closed her eyes, sighing with genuine pleasure. No lust, no undertones of sexual desire, just a warm pleasant feeling she had not thought she could experience again, certainly not in this place.

She felt his fingers pause for just a fraction of a second when he heard the sound escape her lips, but he resumed quickly enough. She'd probably made him uncomfortable before. It was clear enough why she'd asked him if he could touch her. But he was a diligent and obedient priest, her Arrawn. He had to be to go through with everything he had though he clearly was not entirely sure what to make of it all.

But then why did she care how uncomfortable he was? She'd endured far worse over just a few days and would endure far more, she was certain of that. Arrawn was kind but he didn't know her, nor she him. It would be a mistake to get attached, to think they could ever be more than a Handler and his charge.

"Time to get you to out of there," he said, suddenly breaking her out of her ruminations.

She felt even more boneless than before as he helped her to her feet and onto a stool where he sat her down and dried her off with the downiest towel she'd ever felt. It was finer even than any of the linens in the Ansel's house. He even toweled her hair dry, something no one had done for her since her mother had when she was girl.

Something twisted in her chest, but she was too weary to examine it further. She wanted to sleep. She wanted this endless nightmare to be over.

At last he wrapped her in a silken robe. The fabric was so thin and fine it did very little to conceal or warm her, but it appeared to be all he had at his disposal. Without further ado he gathered her up in his arms once more and walked them out of the bath room.

  
Freya pillowed her head up on his shoulder as he walked. Arrawn was warm - in the good, comforting sort of way, not the perverse sort of way. It may have been the fatigue, but she felt safe there in his arms in spite of herself. Why did he have to be so kind?

He came to a stop when they were deep into the monastery, past the priests' clergy houses to a residence separate from the rest. Opening the door, it revealed a large room, beautifully furnished and decorated fit for a queen. As he brought them towards the enormous bed, Freya protested, "This can't be right. This is too much. Whose room is this?"

"It is yours, Freya," he said, the frown from earlier returning to crease his brow.

"Why?" Why treat her like a thing and then give her this? Was this how they justified what they did to her to themselves? Letting her live in luxury, surrounded by fine things while using her body for their rites and rituals?

"You're blessed, sacred. It would dishonor the Lady if you were to be given anything less." His voice was cold and mechanical once more, like he was reciting a well rehearsed stricture.

"This is mad." She said it without thinking but it was too late to take back now. She looked to Arrawn hesitantly, expecting a reprimand or at least to be corrected but he said nothing. He couldn't look at her.

When she was about to speak up, he finally looked back at her and spoke again, "I'll leave you now, Freya. I have a room next door to yours. I’m to remain close so that I can best serve you." He gestured to a door to her right. "Just knock if you need anything. I'll wake you in the morning when the doctors come to check on you."

Freya felt as though she should say something before he left, but could think of nothing that made any sense. "Sleep well, Freya," he said, his tone and demeanor softening again upon seeing her confusion and distress at his sudden change in attitude.

He didn't wait for a response before turning to leave. Freya sat there staring at the door he left through for a while, longer than she would have expected to but it was strange now, to suddenly be alone after days where she had not been given a moments peace or solitude. And this place they had given her, fine though it was, was not really hers. It would never truly be hers. It was a cell. A beautifully gilded cage, but a cage none the less.

Eventually her body decided for her, the collective fatigue she'd accumulated since she'd been brought here slamming into her like a wall. She laid back, sinking into the plush fabric and downy mattress. She didn't bother to get under the covers. As much as the warm bath had helped, she was still too sore to exert herself even that much, and the new appendage between her legs still ached from being overstimulated making any unnecessary movement an agony.

Closing her eyes, she expected sleep to take her quickly and unceremoniously, but it didn't. Like everything else lately, sleep too seemed determined to torment her.

Flashes of memory played back in her mind as she struggled to sleep. Images she'd hoped foolishly to forget. Shocks of heat rocked through her as she recalled mouths latched to her breasts, cocks thrusting into her mouth, her cunt, or her rear. The painful feeling of emptiness crept over her again, leaving her feeling tense and incomplete.

When sleep finally did come for her it was fitful, her dreams troubled and filled with the same imagery that had tormented her waking hours for the past several days. It seemed this was her life now, whether waking or dreaming…

* * *

Something was wrong - wrong again. Wrong in a different way. She knew before she even opened her eyes. As they shot open, Arrawn's face slowly came into focus. He was scowling again until he realised she'd awakened and then he looked distressed. Before he could speak another voice cut in.

"Keep her still, if you please," Lynea's terse words came from the other end of Freya's body, hovering over her hips.

She felt a pinch then, and cold metal against the sensitive skin of her cock and she gasped. Her body twitched involuntarily. Arrawn held one hand down firmly but gently on her shoulder while the other gripped her hand. When she looked away from her Handler she found the High Priest standing over them at the end of the bed while Lynea sat straddling her legs, while fitting some kind of metal contraption around her aching masculine organs.

"I am sorry, Lady," she said, and she actually sounded genuine. "I was hoping to have this done before you woke so as to cause you as little discomfort as possible. I've found they're easier to bear once they're already in place."

"What is this?" Freya asked weakly. The fear in her voice making her cringe. She didn't like appearing weak in front of them, though there was no denying that was exactly what she was.

"We must protect you and the blessing you have been bestowed with until the final rite during the Month of Rebirth," the High Priest explained. The greatest gift we can offer the Goddess during her rite is the seed of the Shewolf. The seed that carries all energy, prayers, love and devotion of her people collected during a year's worth of rites and worship."

As he spoke a ring closed tightly around the base of both her cock and testicles forcing a whine out of her lips and her hand to tighten around Arrawn's. "There, there, dear Lady. I'm almost done. Please bear with me. The fit must be tight, but not so tight as to chafe."

More metal closed around her flaccid length as Lynea worked, not as tight, but not exactly comfortable either. Then there was a final click and a satisfied sound from the doctor as she raised herself up and looked to Freya. "All done, Lady. I apologise for the rude awakening. Oh, and one last surprise for you all. She has retained a clitoris, beneath her testicles and above her entrance, just where it ought to be. So she is will be in fine state to receive the Lady's pleasure."

"Excellent work, as usual, Lynea." The High Priest had that wicked grin upon his face again, the one that made Freya's skin crawl. "The cage is to remain on for the entire year, until the final rite when your seed will be given to the Goddess as part of the final offering. I know it is unpleasant, but the reward for keeping your gift, saving it until the right moment will be great, greater than we could have hoped for."

Freya wasn't really listening anymore. She'd slipped away again. Their flowery words made her sick. Her helplessness made her even sicker. Arrawn was soothing her hair now so she focussed on that. She realised then, though she had sarcastically been thinking of him as _"her's"_ he really was the only thing in this place that was hers. It was in every look, every minute action and reaction, everything he said and didn't say.

Maybe that would be enough to get her through a year of this. Maybe it was only buying her time…


	2. Seeds to Sow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW (on top of the sex stuff) for some suicidal thoughts/behavior

She still was not used to it, this new body of hers.

Shockingly, she had been given a few days to recover from the ordeal of the first rite. Freya had fully expected to be put to task as soon as Lynea had finished with the contraption that now held her masculine organs caged. Instead, she was left in Arrawn's care to recover. She had plenty of time to take in the body she now inhabited though it did nothing to ease her mind.

Walking took some getting used to. As if it wasn't bad enough having an entirely new appendage between her legs, it was also restricted and weighed down by the cage. Every time she got up to move, she had to adjust her gate. And of course, the nature of her role in the church required her to have her body available and on display at all times. It wouldn't do to hide the evidence of the Goddess's blessing, and so she was not permitted any clothing that might otherwise aid in concealing her caged organ.

The physical changes didn't end there.

It was like her body had aged over night. Any remaining girlish features she'd retained before she was brought here were gone. Her breasts were larger, swelling with the milk induced by the wolfweed. Her nipples were constantly standing to attention. Her hips were wider, her ass rounder. Even her face was a little different; a little softer, less angular.

That day, after Lynea and the High Priest had left them, Freya stood before a great glass mirror trying to come to terms with the familiar stranger staring back at her. Arrawn had to drag her away eventually or she would have stood there until her legs gave out.

Freya's days soon settled into a sort of torturous monotony. She woke, she was given her dose of wolfweed, then she and her Handmaidens were taken to a chamber where they spent most of the day waiting for Acolytes or the Hunters to come make use of them. For the Acolytes, being servants of the Lady, could not forgo acting upon their lust if they were to remain fit to be in her service.

The Hunters, on the other hand, needed to hone their skills. She learned eventually that they would need them for both the rite of the Hunt as well as the final rite. Eventually one was meant to claim her, representing the Goddess's Hunter lover from the legend. Together they would be the conduit through which the offerings of the people would make their way to the Goddess at the end of the year.

There seemed to be some expectation that she would start to form bonds with them, but she didn't see how that could be possible. It wasn't as though they were speaking. They weren't getting to know each other. They were fucking her, and she was being fucked.

She was not bound during most days unless the priests had a lesson or training they needed to undergo. But then she didn't really need to be. The wolfweed she and her Handmaids were given made them loose and pliable - made them _want_ to be touched and filled. They used her mouth, her cunt or her ass. In fact, it was rare for her _not_ to have each orifice filled all at once during these sessions. Overstimulation became a way of life for her until she craved it.

At least a few days a week the High Priest, Bartrem she discovered his name was, would take her to his chamber, place her kneeling under his desk, and have her suck his flaccid cock while he did his paperwork. Sometimes, if he had visitors or meetings they fucked her ass or her pussy from the other side of his desk while they discussed business - who would be invited to the grand rite for this month, which of the nobility had proved worthy of a special audience with the Shewolf during the next Evening Mass.

They spoke as if she wasn't even there, as though she were a part of the furniture. She wondered sometimes whether this - servicing the High Priest Bertram - was really part of her holy duties or if this was a particular perk of his office that the High Priest had simply decided was his right. In the end it hardly mattered. When it came down to it, it really was no different from anything else she was made to do.

When it came to her more official public duties, she still was not truly at peace with it…

Once a week she was made accessible to the public during the Day of Cleansing. People attended the service in the early morning. The priests would sing their songs while she stood there, bound to another frame that had her legs spread wide before the congregation. A plug was inserted into her rear hole with a mock wolf tail dangling from the end. Her face covered by a headpiece that resembled a stylized wolf head. She had to play the part after all.

After the first few songs were sung the people were permitted to approach her as Arrawn and the Templars stood guard. They were made to wash their hands in blessed water, then were given a few minutes each to lay their hands upon her and receive the Lady's blessing. The hands of so many strangers, one after another, groped and caressed in equal measure. There were certain parts of her though, that they all tended to gravitate towards… Fingers went into her mouth and bade her to suck, or they pinched her nipples, tugged at the rings she'd been pierced with. Others chose to focus lower. Stroking or kissing her caged cock. Fondling the globes of her balls as they stuck their fingers in her pussy.

During these ceremonies she'd be given so much of the weed that these relatively simple touches were enough to send her into a chain of climaxes that lasted until the flow of petitioners had come and gone. By the time the sun was setting milk dripped from her heavy breasts, just as she dripped from her weeping cock and pussy.

But the Day of Cleansing was not quite over. During the Evening Mass a select handful of the nobility would be permitted to excise their sins upon her body, fucking into each of her holes, lapping up the milk from her breasts. Through her their devious thoughts and acts could be cleansed.

Already Lord Ansel had been among them and somehow, she was not surprised. She'd learned a lot about the nature of men since she'd been taken. Neither was she surprised that he was the roughest of the lot. When she’d worked in his household, she’d seem him disciplining other servants. It was his wife that had always kept her safe from his ire.

She was always left bruised when he attended Evening Mass, something that Arrawn had taken note of, his face turning dark every time he had to treat her afterwards.

She hated those days the most, would never get used to so many strangers with their hands on her and in her…

At least with the priests and the Hunters she began to recognise their faces over time. She even sort of knew them after a fashion. She knew which ones were gentle and which were rough. She knew which ones were enjoying themselves more than others. The same went for her Handmaidens. The jealousy she'd detected during the Rite of the New Moon, most of it disappeared when they saw what had become of her so-called blessed cock, now bound away and kept from finding any pleasure.

Still they seemed drawn to it, fascinated. They liked to fondle it whenever she was alone with them and she was usually too drunk on the weed to care to stop them. They'd stroke and lick it, fondle her poor restrained globes, knowing full well she was trapped by the cage, that any amount of arousal caused it to strain against the metal cage. When they'd had enough, they would latch onto her breasts and take her milk, or take the metal phalluses and insert them into her cunt or her ass until she came for them.

It was a relief and a torture at the same time. Her body craved it, but her mind plummeted further into despair.

Eventually she realised they didn't appear to be giving her Handmaidens the same dose of wolfweed that she was given. They were always more alert, more capable than she was. She tried to tell herself it was because they were far more keen than she was, therefore they didn't need it like she did. They always had been, ever since that first night. Plus, they had other duties that didn't involve the near constant sex that seemed to be expected of her. They had to learn the rites, prepare any chambers she made use of, help clean and bathe her, bring her meals…

They wouldn't be able to complete such things if they were as near constantly drunk with lust as she was.

During all this Arrawn was always nearby. For most of it he stood just a few feet away, ever watching to ensure she was alright, that her body was sound if not her mind. Ensuring that none of the Acolytes or Hunters took things too far. He was even present while the High Priest had her shoved under his desk. For all of it he wore a carefully neutral expression, giving away nothing of what he felt, if he felt anything.

This was all part of his duty after all. It was an honor to serve the church and the Lady - to be the one lucky enough to protect her Shewolf. But Freya knew he was tense, only growing more so as time went on.

He never partook of the Handmaidens where the other Acolytes did. He never even touched any of them in fact, despite some of the more brazen Maidens best efforts. He was beautiful after all, her beautiful priest. It was no surprise that others had taken note.

But he was hers, all hers, and she took an almost perverse pleasure in that knowledge. A pleasure that came with a shroud of shame. But then what was one more shame piled on top of so many others? She could take this one thing for herself; his gentle hands and his soothing words, keep them locked within herself. Her one solace in a place that offered her empty flattery and vapid praise.

* * *

With her first rite as the Shewolf on the horizon some of her time was spent alone with Arrawn, learning what was expected of her. They skipped ahead once Arrawn learned she could read. Giving her tome upon tome to review so she could better understand exactly what it was that had brought her to this point and what was to come next.

She learned much indeed. She learned that she, along with her Handmaidens and Hunters, were conduits of a sort, powerful siphons for the energy that fueled the Goddess, made her magic more potent, and her blessings more powerful. They had a unique energy within them that was detectable by the Acolytes. That at least explained how they had found her among the faceless masses…

Arrawn also made sure they were both well acquainted with the specifics of the rites that were to come. He was quite ashamed that he had been caught off guard by everything that happened during the Rite of the New Moon. Whenever they were alone, he apologised to her over and over until she begged him to stop.

"I just… I should have known. I let you down," protested when she'd told him he was forgiven for what must have been the hundredth time.

"You didn't even know me, Arrawn. Besides, you said yourself. You'd only just become a full Acolyte. You hadn't the time learn everything. And it seems, for some reason, they left quite a lot out until things were already… in progress." She sighed, looking up from her book.

Arrawn had raided the Church's grand library. Bringing her every book he could to her private room so she could read to her heart's content. The pristine grandeur of her room was now covered by stacks of books and loose parchment and Freya found it a much more comforting sight whenever she was able to retire there.

"It doesn't matter how well I know you, or when I became an Acolyte. I knew what was expected. I failed. I can't let it happen again." He set his own book down as he spoke.

"If you're not up for this today we can stop. There isn't much point anyway; the Rite of Sowing is tomorrow." Freya pulled her flimsy robe around herself, more out of habit than to shield herself. The silken fabric was soft and smooth and felt heavenly against her skin, as with every garment she now possessed, but it concealed nothing. She almost didn't know why she even bothered wearing anything beyond force of habit.

"I'm sorry, Freya."

"Don't be, just…" Her words quickly became scrambled as the weight of what was to come the following day settled over her.

She had thought she was ready, or at least that she could rely on the numbness that now set in whenever she was paraded out for the Acolytes, or the Hunters, or the masses. The Rite of the New Moon still haunted her dreams. Whether it was the shock of it or the end result, she didn't know but it stayed with her, creeping into her thoughts, sporadically consuming both her waking and dreaming hours.

Seeing she was becoming distressed Arrawn started to reach for her but stopped abruptly, just short of placing his hand on her shoulder. He knew by now she despised even the most innocent of touches. He was the only one who knew, and yet he was the only one who's touch she could tolerate. His touch was never wanting, it never took, it never invaded.

Before he could pull away again, she took his hand in hers, occupying her eyes by examining his long graceful fingers. Such lovely graceful fingers…

"You shouldn't do that," he said, a slight waver in his voice. His breath hitched as she trailed her fingers across his palm, down to his wrist, but he didn't draw away.

"Or what they'll punish us? What more can they even do that they haven't already done?"

"Perhaps not to you, but I would be replaced. I might even be stripped of my role and ejected from the Church entirely. I'd be demoted surely…" But even as he spoke her hand continued to slide up his arm.

She was enjoying it too much, but then what else did she have to enjoy anymore? She knew he wanted her, but his self control was impregnable. This wasn't the first time she'd tried to break him. Part of the fun of it was knowing he _wouldn't_ break. Her priest was too good for that. But she could still make him squirm.

The downside of course, was that _she_ did become aroused as she teased him. She wanted him as much if not more than he wanted her, she thought. And then there was the weed; boiling in her blood, making her wet and ready at a moments notice.

Arrawn's other hand came up as he turned the tables on her, taking her by both wrists and holding her still. They stared each other down for a moment before she yanked her arms free and stood abruptly. She hurried over to the fire burning away in the hearth, her back to her Handler. The heat did nothing to stifle her lust, but it was at least a distraction.

"I want to be alone now, please," she said without looking back at him. She regretted it even as she said it. He was the closest thing to a friend she had in this wretched place, and she was going to be sent out to the mercy of the populace tomorrow morning. Yet rather than simply take what she could get, enjoy his peaceful, steady company, she was driving him away.

"As you wish, Freya." She heard him get to his feet, and promptly leave through the side door that led to his own chamber.

It wasn't enough that her life was being torn apart, piece by piece. She apparently had to ensure it was completely and utterly miserable herself.

* * *

"Today, the Goddess honors and blesses those who toil in the fields, raise livestock, cultivate the land and provide for us all. She sent us her Shewolf that she may bless the seeds to be sown, the young to be reared that she may ensure the Lady blesses this year, and the years to come with plentiful bounty for us all."

As the High Priest spoke to those gathered in the courtyard before the Cathedral, Freya was being strapped into a frame that held her up on her hands and knees upon a platform standing above the crowd. Below her it had an open bottom beneath which sat a large open bowl with a flared rim into which the farmers were to place offerings of their seeds, crops yet to be sown for the season.

Behind her one of the Hunters was already fucking into her cunt, while before her one of his brethren was thrusting into her mouth. If their seed was meant to symbolise that of the farmers' crops, then she was meant to be the fertile land.

Not long after the High Priest's sermon began, the people began to approach the platform. They would place their offerings in the bowl and then squeeze her milk heavy breasts until it spilled forth into the basin along with their offering. Some merely waited until her milk came and then left. Others stayed, grabbing hold of both tits, milking her like a cow until she was groaning around the cock in her mouth.

The line of petitioners was long that day, and they came with more than just seeds and grain. Those that reared livestock came with newborn calf's, piglets, and lambs, even the odd sheepdog pup, or barn kitten. They held the young creatures up to her now leaking breasts to suckle. But they were animals. They didn't know to be gentle for they were hungry, greedy little things. They scratched and bit and suckled so hard her eyes brimmed with tears and she gasped with pain even as the Hunters still filled her mouth with their cocks and their seed.

Her own cock ached, straining against the metal of its cage every time she came – and she came constantly to the relentless thrusts of the Hunters.

Eventually Arrawn stopped the petitioners from brining any more animals, but by then her nipples were already swollen, red and raw. It was only just after noon and she was to remain there until the sun came down and the sky was dark.

It took longer today for her mind to slip away. It might have been because there was just too much going on between being fucked by the Hunters, the milking, the animals and the incessant droning chant of the priests. But drift away she eventually did. Her eyes going dull and unfocussed, her body loose and malleable as she let the Hunters maneuver her however they wanted - pulling her on her hair, thrusting her hips back to meet there's, or pressing her down into the frame. Their spend had been trickling from her lips and between her thighs for hours already, but she took no notice.

She pretended she was anywhere else. She pretended she was dead. Her spirit drifting outside of her own body, watching this horror unfold with a cold curiosity. They took, and they took, and they took, and as each piece of her split away it was like it was being replaced with something else. Maybe she really was siphoning energy from these people. She didn't know. All she knew was that whatever she was now she didn't feel holy or worshipped. She felt used, dehumanized and wrong - always wrong.

By the time the light in the sky had completely vanished she hardly had the strength the raise her head when the Hunters finally released her. Her ears were ringing, and she felt only pain. She was vaguely conscious of Arrawn rushing to her, undoing all her bindings and lifting her up and out of the contraption. She thought she heard protests, but the roaring of her own pulse in her hears as he carried her back into the cathedral drowned out almost all other sound besides the ringing.

Her vision swam, everything before her becoming a liquid blur. Even Arrawn's face, so near her own was unrecognisable. She wanted to ask him… There were so many things she wanted to ask but she couldn’t think…

How could he stand by and let this happen when it clearly troubled him so? How could any of this be in service to a Goddess of life and fertility? What did her pain have to do with any of it?

But she was so tired. Everything hurt. Everything was gone and she just wanted to rest.

* * *

Arrawn's heart pummeled the walls of his chest as he undid Freya's bindings. Her head was lolling, neck drooping from her shoulders, her arms and legs limp as a rag doll. Her whole framed shuddered as if in shock. And maybe she was in shock. He was certain that after what she'd endured when she first arrived, along with everything that had come after that his superiors must think she could survive the more strenuous rites to come, but now that he'd seen one with his own eyes he couldn't fathom how any human being could.

Yet she was there, hanging by a thread in his arms as he sped them towards the infirmary. The other Acolytes had tried to calm him, but he was done with this display of vulgar excess. His duty was to her now, by their own appointment, and he would not stand by a moment longer just to save face for the Church.

When he burst through the infirmary door, kicking it open with his foot he managed to relax a fraction when he saw it was just Lynea there. While she was rather cold and clinical, she was a good doctor and healer, and she did genuinely care for her patients. Efraim he trusted less, particularly with Freya's care. He'd seen the way he eyed her every time it was his turn to check in on her.

Lynea jumped as he trudged through the door, and then her eyes went wide when she saw the twitching form of Freya in his arms. _Good_ , the thought. It was almost a relief to know he wasn't the only one shocked by what they were doing.

She quickly regained her composure, straightening her robe and getting to her feet. "Bring her here," she said gesturing to a room at the opposite end of the infirmary. As he brought Freya through and set her down on the bed, she closed the door behind him.

Lynea didn't speak as she worked. She simply rolled up her sleeves and got down to business, but he could see she was rattled. The healer was old enough to have been alive during the last year-long rite, though he didn't know exactly how old she was. The fact that she was shocked after the events of today sent his blood running cold and his heart sinking in his chest like a stone.

"What -" she began, but then cut herself off. Asking him was pointless. A newly minted Acolyte who had only stumbled into this role by chance was not likely to have the answers. "What did this?" she said eventually.

"You don't know?" he retorted, incredulous.

"I have other duties, Arrawn. It's not my job or my place to examine every detail of the rites," she sighed as she continued to work. The swelling and redness had already started to recede, and tremors had stopped. He thought Freya was still conscious. Her eyes were open, but they were vacant. Like she wasn't there behind them.

His heart drummed faster, and his pulse roared in his ears as he struggled for words. "You've been an Acolyte far longer than I. You know what the rites are like. I thought I knew, or I had heard stories. This was… Those first nights were bad, but this was worse somehow. The people, and the animals…"

Lynea frowned, looked back down at Freya, the marks on her breasts as she continued to let her magic flow into her, weaving her wounds closed. "I was just a girl during the last rite, but it was… different. Many things were different back then."

"This can't be good for her. She won't survive seven more of these." He wanted to voice more of his objections. How none of this seemed to truly be in service of the Goddess. How they were taking a girl against her will and using her for their own ends. She wasn't a participant in this, she was a sacrifice.

"She _is_ chosen, Arrawn. The marks of the Shewolf are clear and they are _known_. And she carries the power from today's rite inside her, I can feel it." The older woman's voice shook a little, and she sounded as though she was not convinced of her own words.

"And this is to be the cost, is it? Freya pays, and we all reap the benefits. If I had known-"

"Be _careful_ , Arrawn," Lynea hissed. "Don't let anyone else hear you talk like that. If word gets to Bertram you have these… doubts, you will be punished, and his punishments have been growing more severe lately. Not only that but Freya will be put in the care of someone far less interested in her well being than you are."

She looked away from him again, back to Freya, who's eyes had finally closed. She was sleeping, albeit fitfully. "You should be careful of your attachment as well."

"There's no -"

"Don't try me, boy. I can see it, though you hide it well enough for the rest." Arrawn flushed, taking a step back as if he'd been struck. "They're distracted for now, with the newness of it all, but they won't be forever. The reason it is forbidden for you become intimate is because they can't abide an overprotective guardian. They might get ideas. They might not like what becomes of their precious Shewolf."

"What am I to do then? Stand here and watch her come apart day by day and do nothing? This isn't _right_ , Lynea. It hasn't been from the start." His hands clenched the end of the bed so tight his knuckles went white, but he needed to grip something, or he'd be kicking down the door to the High Priest's rooms and strangling the man himself.

Lynea continued to scowl pensively, her lips pursed into a thin frown. "Leave this with me for a while. I have friends in… places. But I must be cautious, as must you. It will take time. You're talking about disrupting the most important rite of the Church and our kingdom. You can't just make off with her in the night and expect either of you to be spared. They have the men and resources to track you down and find you before you've even left the city. Give me some time. It's the best I can do."

"Why _would_ you do this?" Arrawn asked after a moment of silence. "You hardly know me. You don't know her at all. You've dedicated your life to the Church."

"I've dedicated my life to the _Goddess_ ," she corrected him. "The Church is governed by men and men are fallible. They can be stupid, vain, greedy, or corrupt. The realms the Goddess deals in have always walked a thin line between the untamed and the decadent. It is part of her nature. She is both woman and beast after all. But this… This has strayed far from what I believe is right, what I believe the Goddess condones. This girl should be a gift - she _is_ a gift, and she is being destroyed…"

Arrawn still found this hard to believe - hard to trust. He'd blurted out his frustrations in a rage, but Lynea seemed ready enough to share them, seemed to have been thinking much the same as him for sometimes. But would this lead anywhere? How long would Freya have to wait before she could liberated? "Do not fear, boy. The Goddess would not so readily abandon one of her own. The one thing you can be certain of is that she belongs to the Lady."

"Perhaps she shouldn't belong to anyone," he muttered.

Lynea went silent again, eyeing him carefully. "Perhaps not. Take her now. I've done what I can. But she still needs rest. I will inform His Grace to leave her be for at least three days. I'll come by on the fourth day to check on her. You needn't worry about Efraim bothering her. I'll see to it."

As if sensing another change approaching, Freya groaned and blinked her eyes open blearily. Arrawn was hovering over her in a second. "I'm taking you to your room now, Freya."

She could only blink up at him, eyes unable to focus. He turned back to the doctor. "What's wrong with her?"

"There's a lot of foreign energy residing in her now. She's not used to it." She paused. "She may never get used to it, but the disorientation should pass."

Arrawn let it be for now. Instead lifting his charge into his arms and heading back to her room. She clung to him like a small child, face buried in his chest. As they arrived in her rooms, he brought her straight to the bath which had already been prepared for her. After setting her in the water, he left her for a moment to change out of his clothes, now covered in the filth that had been left upon her after the rite. He only had time to remove his overcoat and put on a clean shirt and pants. He didn't want to leave her for too long.

When he returned, she was still conscious, but staring off into space, eyes transfixed on nothing. He got to cleaning, scrubbing off the grime and muck - well practiced at it by now. When he drew her out of the water, he didn't bother to spend too much time toweling her off, opting instead to get a fire burning in the hearth and warm her up there.

Ever since he brought her back from the courtyard her skin had been like ice. Even after soaking in the warm water, she was cold to the touch. He pulled the blankets and coverlets from the bed and wrapped her up in them, swaddling her like an infant as he built the fire.

Once it was roaring away, he pulled her down to the floor with him, getting as close to the flames as he dared and praying she would absorb some of its heat.

"I'm so sorry, Freya," he muttered over and over again, like a mantra. Like he believed the more he said it then maybe it could all be undone.

"You keep saying that but none of this is your doing," she said softly, so softly he almost thought he'd imagined it.

"For all my inaction it might as well be. I've let it happen and I must let it keep happening."

"It’s the will of the Goddess, isn't it? What are we to do about it when a Goddess wills it?"

"Leave," he said, and he meant it. If Lynea took too long... If he had to watch Freya suffer through another rite like this one… He would take her away. The wrath of the Church and the Goddess be damned. "If I took you away from here -"

"They'd kill you, Arrawn. Just leave it be."

"And if it kills _you_?"

"Then I will be free, and so will you." His arms around her tightened, as if the mere suggestion of losing her made it that much more of a possibility.

They didn't speak for the rest of the night. At some point they both slipped into the dark embrace of sleep, curled up next to the fire while it burned itself to embers. He tried not think on what tomorrow would bring, or the next day, or the day after that. As had been acknowledged several times over at this point; their fates were out of their hands. Their choices, what little they had, were limited. He didn't need to pretend they had anything more. Pretending would do neither of them any good. He just needed to be with her now. Whatever came after was for the Arrawn of tomorrow.


	3. Maidens & Mothers

Freya woke cocooned in blankets, lying on the floor next to hearth. She tried to sit up but had to wriggle out of her soft, cloth prison.

She could hear someone breathing softly next to her. Shifting around, keeping the blanket around her shoulders, she looked to find the source of the sound - though she knew exactly who it was. There was only one other person permitted in her chambers at night.

Arrawn was still sleeping soundly on the cold floor. He looked even more angelic when he was asleep. His long dark lashes fluttered softly against his cheek as he dreamed. His hair was a mess of dark waves, haloing his perfect face.

He'd slept in his clothes, but they weren't his customary priest's robes. Beneath his simple linen shirt, she could see just how lean and muscled he truly was. She almost couldn't fathom how beautiful he was and wondered if he even knew. He seemed the modest sort.

Without thinking she reached out to touch his face. But as her hand settled over his cheek she froze as his eyes fluttered open. Before she could yank her hand away, he caught her by the wrist.

"I’m sorry," she blurted and tried again to pull away. But rather than let her go as he normally did; he replaced her hand back over his cheek and closed his eyes again.

Her heart threatened to drum itself out of her chest.

"Never apologise to me. You've nothing to apologise for in this place," he said, opening his vibrant green eyes once more and sitting up. He tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear and watched her quietly for a moment. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired and… strange. My body feels heavy, or my soul maybe. It feels like I came back with… more?" She didn't quite know how to describe the disorientation she felt.

"Well you can rest easy for a few days. Lynea said you're to be left alone so you can recover." He looked like he wanted to say more. He always looked like he wanted to say more to her but hew as always holding back.

Freya frowned. "Those things you said last night -"

"Forget it. Forget I said them. I was… rattled."

Her frown deepened. She didn't know much about the church and the normal rites and rituals. She knew about its view of sex. That it was a tool of worship; a celebration of the Goddess. Sex was the Lady's domain, and she reveled in it for it produced life and represented vitality.

She'd never attended the Days of Cleansing herself in her life before. Primarily because she didn't think she needed to, what with her life and her habits being as dull as they were. She knew about it though, and vaguely what went on, at least when there was no Shewolf to participate. Usually it was the priests or the Drones; those who gave their bodies in service to the Church because they had no other choice. But even they had at least one choice where she did not.

Freya knew enough to know that what she had taken part in so far was not the norm. Either the rites were very secretive and cryptic indeed, or things had changed… The fact that an Acolyte of the Church, be he newly minted or not, was shocked and disturbed by the display implied something to her. And she knew Arrawn was not the only to be off put by what had transpired so far.

While many if not most of the onlookers and participants had joined in gleefully, not all of them looked comfortable with what was taking place.

But what was she to do with this information? She didn't want to spur Arrawn into acting brashly. But she would need him if she was to do anything about it.

She would have to be patient. She would have to keep suffering through these rites until an opportunity presented itself. Whether one actually did and what she would do with such an opportunity was another question entirely…

* * *

"Lady!" Senna exclaimed as Arrawn walked her into the dayroom she usually occupied with her Handmaidens. Senna was the one that had grown the most attached to her. The one the least interested in fondling her, and the most interested in her as a person. "We were so worried after the Rite of Sowing. Are you – are you well?"

The rest of the Handmaids swarmed her, as well as a few of the Hunters. Already there, naked and waiting for their Lady. Freya recognized them as Lucas, Tyr and Eowulf. The ones who performed the rite with her. They looked bashful, maybe even a little ashamed. "We wanted to apologise lady. We didn't think - we didn't know you could be harmed like that," Lucas said, eyes full of genuine concern.

"She's still human," Arrawn practically barked at them. "She's not impervious."

All of them flinched back as her Handler spoke, avoiding looking him in the eye. "Forgive us, Lady. It won't happen again. We swear it," Tyr added.

Freya looked to Arrawn briefly and found him glaring at the Hunters skeptically.

"It's fine. Just leave it be," she said eventually, already weary of her first day back with her brood.

"Let us care for you, Lady," Senna insisted.

"Yes, will you let us?" Eowulf asked softly.

They didn't usually ask her for permission. They usually just got started without waiting for any confirmation from her. But it had been a long time since she'd been touched. And three days with Arrawn, unable to touch him or be touched in the way her body yearned for had left her wound up like a spring ready to snap. They hadn't forgone her doses of wolfweed during those three days, but she some how knew it would be just the same - the empty, incomplete feeling building inside her - if she hadn't taken it.

She just nodded silently and when Eowulf offered her his hand she took it.

He guided her to a low settee, taking a seat and then guiding her back to sit in his lap. He leaned back, taking her with him, and holding her legs wide and open so both her holes were on display. Senna approached with a vial of oil and swiftly applied it to Freya's cunt, ass, and Eowulf's cock. When she was done the Hunter wasted no time shifting her over and then pressing his stiff and pulsing manhood into the pucker of her ass.

She let out a groan, her head falling back to be pillowed on his chest as he pushed through and the delightful feeling of him inside her sent shivers up her spine. As he started moving, Senna came forward again, holding a little metal implement. "Doctor Efraim said we're to try this with you now you're back. It will remove the cage but tighten the ring."

Freya's eyes darted to Arrawn for any sign that he knew this was coming but his scowl only deepened as he looked on silently.

Without Freya responding, Senna went about removing the cage around her cock with the little key-like object. She then used it to tighten the ring at the base of her cock and balls. "With the cage gone, he said we must tighten it to ensure you can't spill your seed, but you must tell me if it is too tight, Lady."

It was very tight but being free - or freer anyway - felt so good she didn't care. Her cock was already standing to attention.

When they received no complaint, the others moved in. Senna tucked the little key away, and then took Freya's swelling member in her hands, stroking her gently, almost lovingly before closing her mouth around her swollen head. It felt so good, the heat of her mouth and her clever tongue, Freya thought she might die.

Tyr then stepped forward, placing his cock before her face so she could suck him like her own cock was being sucked. The second she tasted the salty sweetness of him upon her tongue she groaned with pleasure.

How things had changed… She gone from dreading these moments to craving them - _needing_ them. But even now, as another shaft slipped into her cunt, and Eowulf's hands slipped around to massage her breasts and tease her ever sensitive nipples, she still felt incomplete. No matter how much they filled her, loved her in their own way, it was never enough. It was never who she wanted.

* * *

She was on a dais in the bay of cathedral. There was a man she'd never seen before in her life fucking her from behind, while his wife alternated between sucking the milk from her breasts and sucking her poor restrained cock.

Around her the Hunters and Handmaidens were fucking the city's virgins, aiding their coming of age with a blessing of vitality and fertility from the Lady's Chosen. It would be a mark in their favour for any future marriage prospects if their intended knew they had participated in this rite and been Blessed by the Shewolf and the Lady.

This month the people came to her for blessings of fertility. Those hoping for a child, or a safe, healthy birth piled into the great stone cathedral to make their offerings to the Shewolf.

The men filled her with their seed, while the women took her milk. Some of them fucked themselves on her cock. She hadn't been expecting that… Even her Handmaidens had refrained, but there, in front of another mass of people, she found herself sheathed in another's pussy for the first time.

It was bliss and torture at the same time - her new norm. The walls of their sex squeezing down on her, slick and wet, and as hungry for pleasure as she was. But she couldn’t come from her cock. No matter how many times she felt their walls shudder and squeeze around her, no matter how many tongues lapped up along her length, sucked around the pulsing head; her release was denied. She came on their cocks, but it was soon becoming just another part of the background noise. The overstimulation and subsequent denial of release soon overshadowing any other pleasure she might feel.

_At least they were gentle_ , she thought to herself beneath the haze of incense and lust. They weren't animals or gruff farmers. She wasn't bound there like an object to be used, though she never felt like any of them truly saw her. Always during these rites and ceremonies she was a means to an end. Their "worship" of her simply involved their use of her body. It didn't require them to acknowledge that there was a person beneath all the pageantry, incense, and oils… all the sweat and milk and come.

There were a lot of couples hoping for blessed children this year. When one couple was finished, they were instantly replaced with another.

When it was over, she collapsed on the dais, the spend of countless men dripping from her cunt, her breasts sore and leaking, her voice hoarse, and her shaft still standing painfully to attention. It hurt so much she was gasping for relief that would never come, tears streaking down her cheeks.

Someone she couldn't quite see, an Acolyte she suspected, rushed to her as she lay there and plugged up her leaking cunt with a wide metallic phallus. He then turned to the crowd still amassed in the cathedral and spoke. "Your prayers for the future will now be carried by the Shewolf into the new dawn. Carried like the new life that will soon be carried within you mother's-to-be. Blessed by the Lady! May she smile upon you for many days to come."

She stopped listening when she realised it had been the High Priest. Hazily, she was aware that her Handmaids and Hunters were looking on with concern, approaching but not touching. It was Arrawn who usually tended her now. And he was there again, quick as always, once Bartrem had left her with the plug in her pussy.

He lifted her up, limp and trembling and left the hall, ignoring the eyes of onlookers. This time Senna followed behind them. As she clung to Arrawn's shoulders Freya looked behind them. Wondering why Senna had decided to follow this time. The girl had a worried expression on her face, head tilted down as she fiddled with something in her hands.

It was the cock cage. As her eyes fell upon it, Freya groaned despite herself. Arrawn's arms tightened around her but he didn't speak. They arrived in the bathing chamber and he set her down in the bath. Senna followed them inside, looking even more timid. "I'm to replace this, Master Arrawn," she squeaked.

Arrawn did look intimidating right now. There was an air of danger about him, sitting just beneath the serenity on the surface, that even Freya could sense though her addled mind made it difficult to focus. "I'll take care of it, Senna. You know she prefers to be alone during this time." Arrawn spoke softly but it did nothing to temper his darkened aura.

Senna just nodded rapidly and handed him the metal implement before bowing to both of them and scurrying away. He brought it in and set it down on a bench before going to where he'd sat her down next to a basin of warm water. He took up the cloth without a word and started wiping her down.

"I'll get you cleaned up properly after midnight," he said quietly. Suddenly he was back to the Arrawn she was more familiar with. Gentle and attentive, but always so fully of regret and shame.

She wanted to tell him to go, to be free. He shouldn't be trapped here like she was. And the angrier he got, the more afraid she became that he would do something stupid.

But they why should she not be free as well? Why must she remain?

"Where would we go?" she said abruptly and Arrawn froze. "Where would we go if we could leave this place?"

"Anywhere. Out of the city - out of the country, where the Church has no power," he said eventually. He looked at her pleadingly, like he wanted her to give him permission, to ask him to do it.

"You don't fear the Goddess's wrath? What might she do if the rite is interrupted?" In spite of everything, Freya did fear it, at least a little. There was magic at work here. Beyond the changes to her body - she could feel it, something welling inside her after every ceremony and rite.

He thought for a moment, but he did not look away. "Yes, but I refuse to believe this is what she intended. Why give us you, her Chosen, if she wanted you to go through… _this_?"

"She's a Goddess. Her whims and her reasons are unknowable to us."

"Then I will not worship such a God," he said bluntly, almost cutting her off. "If you wish it I will do everything in my power to see you freed."

Freya shuddered at the conviction in his eyes. He was a good man, her priest, too good for this place. Too good for her perhaps.

Without thinking she reached out and brushed her fingers across his cheek, watched as his eyes fluttered closed at her touch. Such a small gesture and yet he seemed to take such pleasure in it. His head tilted into her palm ever so slightly and Freya had to resist the urged to let her hand wander.

Now wasn't the time. There never would be a time for them, not with what she was, what she had been made into. Not after the things she'd done - the evidence of which still inside her. She pulled her hand away in a flash, internally berating herself.

For a moment she'd forgotten that she was a thing now. Maybe she never was Freya. Her life before this all began felt so distant, so very far away from the reality she now lived. Dull as ditch water… That's what she'd thought back then. It had been so bland she almost wanted to laugh. She'd ghosted through that life until this misery came crashing into her and now she wondered if it had all been some kind farce.

This was what she was meant for all along. How else had she ended up this way?

"Freya?" Arrawn took the hand she'd drawn away and held it tight in his own.

She fixed her gaze on him once more. Trying to focus. It was always so hard to stay focused these days. "They'll kill you," she said finally, repeating her words from earlier. "If they catch you trying to do anything like that they will punish you, won't they?"

He didn't answer. There was no need.

"I don't want that," she said weakly. As much as she wanted her freedom - some kind of end to this nightmare - she didn't want him dead. Not for her.

Arrawn simply squeezed her hand before raising it to his lips and kissing her knuckles. His lips were impossibly soft.

Her beautiful Arrawn… Always hers and always out of reach…


	4. Champions & Kings

"Where do you go, I wonder? When your eyes go strange like that," the High Priest asked as he stroked Freya's hair while she held his cock in her mouth.

She barely registered he was speaking to her. He rarely did, but he'd been more talkative lately. He'd ask her how she was, how she felt, was she enjoying herself? He neither wanted nor expected a response. He was amusing himself. Any doubt that he was taking advantage of his position had long since been diffused.

Lately the High Priest would not be satisfied with just her mouth. He pulled her up and splayed her across his desk, over the papers and parchments he'd just been scribbling on. He’d take out his own personal key to her cock cage, removing it swiftly with practiced movements and then promptly buried himself in her pussy.

As he started to thrust into her, he gripped her cock, squeezing her tightly until her eyes rolled back into her head and she squirmed beneath him. The more he could make her react - be it in pain or pleasure - the more amused he was. "So pretty," he crooned down to her as he squeezed her breast until milk spilled forth. "So very, very beautiful. How lucky we are to have her, are we not, Acolyte?"

"Very lucky, Your Grace," Arrawn replied. There was not a hint of emotion in his voice.

Freya had avoided looking at Arrawn when she was like this. She couldn't bear it any longer. The rage she saw in his eyes, the feeling of helplessness; it served nothing and no one. Their dream of leaving this place was just that.

So instead she went away, letting her mind carry her off as far as she may go. And it wasn't far. She could never truly escape, even within her own mind.

Bartrem shoved his fingers into her mouth and bade her suck as he continued to speak. He seemed to have a lot to say to her today. "We’re sending you to the king tomorrow night, after the ceremony. He's expressed great excitement that he and his family shall receive your blessing. I know I don't need to worry about you behaving yourself. You're such a good girl, but the palace will be different. The people different."

Freya gave no sign one way or the other that she heard him or understood what he said. She simply continued to suck on his fingers as he fucked her, her eyes unfocused. "I suppose there is very little you could do to disappoint them, sweet girl," he said as he gave her cock another squeeze and she came, clenching her sex around him as she shivered through her climax.

"You'll see to it she is protected, Arrawn. They are royalty, but she belongs to the Goddess." The High Priest turned to her Acolyte now.

"Of course, Your Grace," Arrawn replied in the same monotone as before.

She wanted so desperately to meet his gaze. She wished she could find safe harbour there, but it always ended up being more painful than comforting so she kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling until Bartrem had spent himself and handed her off to Arrawn to escort back to her rooms. Before they could leave however, it appeared the High Priest had one more thing to say.

"Oh, before I forget. The following day you are to give Lord Ansel the Lady's blessing," he said as he tucked himself back into his robes.

Arrawn spun back around with Freya still clutched in his arms. She nearly lost her footing. The shock of his announcement coupled with how worn out she was not making matters any better. "Your Grace, I've told you what he's like. You’ve seen the bruises yourself. If we're to be concerned about anyone putting the Lady at risk, its him. He shouldn't be permitted anywhere near her."

"He's made a sizeable donation to the Church, more than anyone this year. We cannot deny such devotion to the Goddess." Bartrem turned to Arrawn, all trace of his affable façade now gone, replaced with a stern, scrutinizing frown.

"So, she's to be the Church's whore then? Tossed to whoever should pay the most money for her company?"

"Be _very_ careful, Acolyte." His tone was ice cold, his dark eyes piercing. Freya had never seen the High Priest like this before, though she was unsurprised that he was capable of such a transformation. "Your dedication to the Lady is to be commended but beware your attachment does not become overzealous. This is how it is done, how it has always been done. It is the will of the Lady that her Shewolf bless her most devout subjects. If you cannot accept this task, then another will be found to take your place. Is that understood, Arrawn?"

Arrawn was seething next to her and Freya was half convinced he would lunge at the High Priest any moment. She squeezed his arm, silently willing him to turn away but he would not. His eyes were locked on Bartem and she saw such rage in them it made her blood run cold.

"Please leave it, Arrawn. I'll be alright. You will be there, will you not?" Finally, he turned away from the High Priest, his eyes falling on her. He did not relax his frame, but his eyes now exuded only misery and shame.

Bartrem smirked then, the amusement returning suddenly to brighten his otherwise severe features. "You see, Arrawn. The Shewolf understands what must be done. Keep a diligent vigil over her as you have been and all will be well." With that they were dismissed, Freya dragging Arrawn from the room, where normally it would be her priest seeing her safely back to her chamber.

Her pulse screamed in her veins drowning out all other noise. She did not permit them to stop or even slow their pace until they were safely in her room, the door closed and locked behind them. Freya found her whole body was shaking, trembling with the anticipation of something hanging in the air between.

She didn't care that she could still smell the High Priest on her, feel him inside her. She didn't care that tomorrow she had yet another ceremony to undergo and she was already tired and spent and aching. All she cared about was that Arrawn had nearly gotten himself killed.

"What are you doing?" she breathed, her voice shaking with the effort to stay in control.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean - I didn't want…" He stumbled over his words. He was no longer the fierce protector he'd been in the High Priest's office, but a lost confused boy.

"Didn't want what? To be dragged away by your brothers and replaced with someone like him? To throw your life away for -"

"For _YOU_! He doesn't care what that beast will do. None of them do. They sit back and watch you suffer, and they don't care because they believe their Goddess wills it. They don't see how you slip away a little bit at a time, everyday. They aren't worried that by the time this is over there may be nothing of you left. They don’t -" He seemed to realise he'd said more than he should, even if it was only to her and he stopped himself.

Her heart raced for a different reason now. Steeling herself against her own nerves she reached for his hand. The need to hold onto him, keep him close rising. "We've talked about this. You can't say such things."

"I'm useless. "

"You're not."

"I'm as bad as them as long as I let this go on." He was squeezing her hand, but he wouldn't look her in the eyes.

Pulling her hand free of his so that she could cup his face with both hands, tilting his face up so they could look each other in the eye. "You're not them. And I will not have you throwing your life away for this, for me…"

Arrawn tilted his head forward slowly, his eyes closed, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. But instead he rested his forehead against hers, breathing slowly as his hands came to rest on her shoulders. "What am I to do then? If I can't help you? If I can't save you?"

"You don’t have to save me, Arrawn. You can leave, and _live_. You could live for us both…" Even as she said the words, she felt her heart breaking. But she could give him up to save his life. She would be as bad as her tormentors if she let him stay and fight and die for her.

"And leave you alone with them?"

"It's better than having to watch them catch and punish you, or kill you. It's better than having you only to lose you. At least if you leave, I'll know you're safe and alive and - and…" The thought of life in this place without him did frighten her, but it did not scare her more than having to watch what they would do to him if he defied the Church, if he raised his hands against the High Priest.

"What sort of life could I live knowing I had abandoned you here? How could I -?"

"A better one," she breathed, wanting so badly to press her lips to his. Now wasn't the time… "You could move on, like you said. Away from here, away from everything the Church touches. You'll forget about this and me eventually, and you could be happy."

He shook his head, pulling away from her like she's just insulted him. " _Never_. I could never forget. Not you."

"You have to go, Arrawn."

Something steeled inside him. He was suddenly calm, his sea-green eyes focused and clear. "I’m getting you away from here."

She had never been so conflicted in her life. How her heart swelled to hear him say that, while simultaneously breaking. He would get himself killed. This place swallowed up hope and goodness and left only shadows and husks in its wake. "I can't stop you. I can't do anything really," she replied, defeated.

"I’m going to get you away from here. Whatever it takes," he repeated as he pulled her into his arms and held her tight.

Freya didn't speak. She didn't protest. She didn't even weep. She simply felt drained. Empty. There was nothing left for her to give. Though he didn’t know it, Arrawn already had the fragmented pieces of her that the Church hadn't already trampled and destroyed. Hope was gone. Faith was gone. Maybe even love was gone too, and this feeling that set her heart to aching was just an echo of what had once occupied that space.

She had no power, not even over her priest. Even though all she would have wished for was to save his life. An understanding had been building in her mind, growing stronger and more concrete after every ceremony. When the end came in a few months there would be nothing for her afterwards. There might not even _be_ a Freya at all. She could feel the energy build in her constantly. Filling her up, taking up all the space within her, leaving no room for who she was.

The tenuous consolation of having Arrawn with her was dwindling by the minute the closer he got to losing control, to doing something stupid. She couldn't take much more. She would not survive losing him, though she knew she was losing herself…

* * *

They had harnessed her into another frame, one that held her still and spread open so that the great heroes and scholars of the kingdom could leave their offerings and wishes inside her. She'd been given something besides the wolfweed today, something that made it easier for her to hold them in as one by one the great minds and warriors of the land approached the altar with their little cylinders.

Each cylinder contained a scroll of paper with their prayers written up on it. What they prayed for she did not know and did not care. There were nearly a hundred of them. They came, they left their little offerings in her cunt, her ass, or her mouth. Some of them groped and caressed her before leaving. Whispering additional prayers to her like she could channel them straight to the Goddess herself.

Freya had no idea of the Goddess listened to any of them. She certainly didn't listen to her. Or if she did, she was uncaring and callous as Freya had always thought her to be.

Her pussy and asshole stretched uncomfortably to fit them all, but she couldn't move, couldn't force them out. She had to hold them all as the priests sang and the incense stifled the air. It wasn't until their song began to rise to a crescendo that her Handmaidens came to surround her. Their hands and mouths closing around her tits or her cock or her clit - licking and sucking until she was spasming against her restraints and the little wishes came falling out of her as each entrance clenched and squeezed and forced them out. Her mouth opening wide as she cried out for the whole chamber to hear.

But the rite was not over. There was one last hero to be seen to, the Day's Champion. Someone who's deeds were so great they were given the honor of closing out the ceremony - their prayer given a place of honor. Freya did not know anything about this man. The High Priest had rambled on about him during one of their interludes in his office, but she hadn't been listening, and truthfully it didn't matter. He was no different than any of the other faceless worshippers that came and went.

As the prayers from earlier were collected and tossed into the fires where the holy incense burned, a tall man approached, his shadow draping over her, long and tall in the afternoon light that poured through the cathedral’s high windows. He looked like a soldier to her, which wasn't surprising. Even from within the confines of the Church Freya had heard about all the recent military success the kingdom had seen of late. He must be at least partly to thank for it.

He was still relatively young, not what she pictured a seasoned general to look like. He was perhaps the same age as Arrawn or very near, with a short cropped, neat beard, and a slightly larger build than her priest. His hair was golden, and his eyes were blue as the sea and strangely sad. He did not look honored to be there as he looked down upon her still trembling form.

His little cylinder was smaller than the others and he held it out before him like he didn't like the prospect of what he was about to do. Freya didn't like it any better than he did, but she couldn't protest. There was a ring in her mouth, holding it open for the prayers that had come before and the only sounds that came from her were pitiful moans and grunts.

The chanting rose up again, stifling the air almost as much as the thick smoke from the braziers that burned all around them. She watched as he took a deep breath, bracing himself, and then reached for her erect cock. His eyes held hers as she did so, a look of pity mixed with guilt written all over them and Freya frowned in confusion. They never looked her in the eye, rarely did they pity her.

"I'm sorry, Lady," he muttered under his breath as he proceeded.

His hands were deft, and clever, and strangely gentle as he began to insert the needle like offering into the slit of her cock. Though he went excruciatingly slowly it still burned, it still felt wrong, and it _still_ sent shockwaves of pleasure through her already overstimulated body. She'd known this was coming. Arrawn and Lynea had tried to warn her, explain it to her, but it was something else to experience firsthand.

Tears welled in her eyes a she groaned around the ring in her mouth until the thing was fully inserted, a little red gem stoppering her cock at the tip. Through the haze of pain and pleasure she could see the Champion adjusting his trousers, pulling out his own cock. He had to rouse it to life, and she thought briefly that that this was strangely comforting, fleeting though the feeling was. For once, one of her so-called worshipers was not aroused by the display.

"I'm sorry," he uttered again under his breath before plunging into her to the hilt.

There was nothing especially different about the way he fucked her compared to all the others that had come before. Nothing aside from the fact that he did not seem to be enjoying himself. Enjoyment had very little to do with it for her though, certainly not with the new addition currently embedded in her poor, throbbing member. It made the build up of arousal and the release she was always denied even more unbearable.

Soon enough her mind started to slip away as it tended to do. Letting the part of her that was still Freya fade into the background while she was fucked and filled, and the rite came to a close.

Something did feel off about this time, however. Where normally she felt the surge of energy as it was syphoned into her from the rite, it didn't not feel quite the same as times before. It was like there was less of it to draw in. Less of it to hold within herself. It felt strange.

The Champion apologised one last time as he withdrew from her, always making sure the crowd of onlookers and priests would not hear him. He did not touch her any longer than he needed to, and he vacated the alter as soon as he could.

Arrawn was swift to release her from her restraints, carrying her himself as he always did when she was too spent to walk on her own two legs. The barb in her shaft was not removed. Nor was it removed when they finally reached Lynea. It was to remain until she was brought before the king and his court and the last of the day's rites were finally done.

* * *

She didn't come back from the place her mind went in the cathedral. Not when Lynea tended her. Not when they bundled her up and ferried her off to the palace. Not when they brought her out, dripping with silk ribbon and gold and jewels - woven into her hair, laced around her limbs, and linked into the piercings in her nipples and labia. Not when the king approached her, called her a "pretty thing" and marvelled at her "lovely honey eyes", her "perfect tits", her "pretty cock" or her "lovely tight little pussy."

When he lowered her to her knees, she sucked his royal member like she was supposed to. When he'd had enough, she lowered herself over him and sheathed him within her slick and aching sex. She moved and moaned and gasped, and her body reacted the way it was supposed to, but she wasn't there anymore. She didn't know where Freya was.

It was like she was there but gone at the same time. She was outside her body, observing but not feeling.

The royal family didn't seem to notice. Well, most of them. The king ensured they all received the Shewolf's blessing. He, along with his wife and sons took their blessing in the customary way. But he had a daughter. One who watched the proceedings, glaring from the corner of the room, arms crossed across her chest. Her red hair shone in the candlelight like fire itself. Somehow it was more vibrant even than the rest of her family, catching Freya's distant eye for a moment.

She approached Freya where she sat in the king's lap, bouncing as she raised and lowered her over his cock. Quickly the princess leaned in and pressed a kiss to Freya's cheek. "My Lady," she whispered, so faint it was almost inaudible.

And then she was gone. Leaving the room entirely while the rest of her family had their way with the Shewolf.

* * *

"This can't go on much longer, Lynea." Arrawn paced the space in front of her desk for what was probably the thousandth time. The doctor hadnt' looked up once from her parchments. "You've seen it with your own eyes."

"What do you expect me to do about it, Arrawn? I'm trying my best, but my ability only goes so far," she sighed.

"And what about your connections? Has there been any word? The last time we spoke -"

The doctor pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes screwed shut while she tried to focus. "I know, Arrawn. Everything is moving too slow, but you should know better than anyone that facing down the Church is not a simple or easy task. Even those that wish to help are afraid, and some of them are not exactly weak or powerless. Going against the Church is akin to going against the Goddess herself."

Arrawn's hands flexed and clenched at his sides. The only thing more frustrating than how ineffectual his supposed allies were, was how pathetic _he_ was. No one was more useless than him.

"Stop beating yourself up," Lynea's voice cut through his thoughts like a razor. "You're doing more than anyone. Even if I had not told you, I suspect she's said as much herself. Has she not?" Arrawn didn't answer. "Someone is coming, joining the Templars. He has connections - more friends who feel the same as we do."

She paused, waiting for Arrawn to speak, to ask more, but he couldn't focus. "It is progress, Arrawn. It's something."

"Who is he then?"

Lynea hesitated before speaking. "The Champion, Sir Gideon Ember."

Something ugly twisted inside him then. He couldn’t place it, or perhaps he didn't want to. He'd seen the way the Champion had been with her. Even through the bitterness of jealousy he knew the hero had wanted no part of it. And yet still, a part of him was already staring to hate the man.

_She's not yours, fool priest. She never was. You were just there, right place, right time. She had no one else but you, and you took advantage of her desperation and imagined it to be something more._

"Arrawn?"

The Acolyte turned form where he'd been glaring daggers at the wall and made a conscious effort to relax his frame, if only just a fraction. "That's quite the ally indeed. I take it a special exemption was made for him, given his credentials."

"Apparently he did begin his training for the priesthood. But when war came, he left to join the army." When Arrawn looked at her skeptically she elaborated. "He's from an old family. Not noble, but well respected and devout. He came back to the city, saw what was happening and well…"

"It doesn't quite match up to what we were taught to believe," Arrawn muttered.

"Quite. So, please don't lose heart just yet, boy." The old physician looked at him then, like she knew. Like she really knew what he felt in the core of him.

It should have made him steel himself for the days ahead. It should have given him some comfort to know that they had allies and they were gathering. However, any kind of victory still seemed very far off, impossibly distant. He couldn't forget what he'd seen, this last day being no exception. He couldn’t ignore the dread that crept in every time he watched another piece of her slip away.

"How much longer then?"

"I told you I do not know, Arrawn."

"Then find out."

* * *

Freya didn't remember when it ended, or when she had been removed from the palace. When she woke up the next day, morning had long since passed and judging by the light piercing through the drapes, it was likely mid-afternoon.

As she tried to rise from her bed, she found her body was heavy - heavier than it should be. Every action came slower, like she was underwater. Even her mind seemed… off. Not slow perhaps just off. Like she'd lost her sense of self. She could think, but she didn't know what to think. Her days up until now, when she wasn't giving the Goddess's blessing, were filled with books and tomes as she and Arrawn poured over the ancient texts - the older the better - to find any loophole, any means of turning this farce around.

But it was all vague, cryptic notions and rituals which was probably why the rites had been so perverted in the first place. The only thing they had been able to uncover up to this point was that their suspicions has been correct. There was nothing in the older texts that specifically stated the rites should be as the current church dictated.

From where she sat in her bed, she glanced at the stacks of books strewn about the room and Arrawn's face came unbidden to her mind. At last a tremor of… something. Emotion? A ripple that made her heart ache.

She stood abruptly, the silken bedsheets slipping from her naked skin. She thought to knock on his door. Normally he would be here, waiting when she awoke but she was alone, and the emptiness of her room seemed only to amplify the chasm she felt inside herself. She froze, however, halfway to the door as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

She hadn't looked at her own reflection since that first day her priest had brought her to these rooms. The person that looked back at her now seemed even more of a stranger than the one back then. Her worshippers had called her beautiful, even when she was covered in filth and she supposed back then she might've seen it. Now she saw only a ghoul, a mimic.

When she looked into her own eyes she saw nothing.

She didn't realize Arrawn had entered until his reflection appeared behind her own. His mouth was moving, and she then realized he'd been speaking, but she couldn't hear him over the ringing in her ears. She shook her head, trying to loosen the impediment and his voice started to reach her.

"Freya? Can you hear me?" He took her by the shoulders as he spoke and turned her to face him. "By the Goddess, you're freezing. How long have you been standing there like this?"

"I don’t know." She looked to the window and saw the light had changed since she'd woken, turning from gold to red-orange as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Gently he took her face in his hands, tilted her up to look him in the eyes as he searched her features for something unknown. "I'm telling the High Priest you cannot go to Ansel today. You're not well."

"I'm as well as I will ever be, Arrawn." She didn't know why she was being like this. She didn't want to be like this, to push him away, but callous words were coming more easily to her than tender ones.

She immediately regretted it as she watched his face fall, but she could think of nothing worth saying. Nothing she could say that would make things better so instead she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, letting her cheek rub against his palm.

"This shouldn't be happening at all," he muttered under his breath as he smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone.

"You will be there to keep me safe," she breathed without opening her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at the well of emotion that awaited her in his gaze. Her heart could still be broken, she had discovered. In a few hours she'd be carted off to Lord Ansel and she should be savouring this time - savouring _him_.

Arrawn stiffened however, forcing her to open her eyes and discover what was the matter. "Is that what I'm doing?"

"Don't do this, Arrawn. Not right now," she pleaded.

Blessedly, he did not argue. They didn't speak at all after that in fact. He simply wrapped her in a blanket and sat her down by the fire until Senna and the others came to prepare her. Watching the flames as he held her safe within his arms… it was almost normal. Almost.

This felt like the eve of battle, though she'd no idea what that was actually like. It was the calm before the storm. There was another change coming, and unlike last time, she could feel it. It hung in the air between them like smoke. She wished she could speak of it to Arrawn, tell him what she though and how she felt but she didn't want to spoil the peace. Every time they spoke lately things seemed to end with them more frustrated than they began, their already awkward and tenuous relationship strained.

But she found she wanted him to know. Even if they were destined to lose each other. She wanted him to know what she felt… How could someone be such a torture and a comfort at the same time?

It was not to be, however. She never did work up the nerve in time to say something before the Handmaidens arrived to prepare her for Lord Ansel. It was a quick enough task as she did not need to be bedecked in excess decoration. Her eyes settled on Arrawn as they worked. He watched from the door; his face carefully set to neutral.

When she was finally ready, they left her rooms without a word, but Freya couldn't resist brushing her hand against his as she passed him. He moved so fast no one could have seen, gripping her fingers so briefly she could almost be convinced it hadn't happened at all. And then they were on their way.

* * *

Lord Ansel seemed particularly enthusiastic today, though he also seemed to be holding back. Perhaps someone had spoken to him about his penchant for damaging the Shewolf. He still, however, behaved an animal while he was with her.

He'd had his big meaty hands grasped in her hair, tugging her head and neck back at an unnatural angle while he bent her over a table, fucking into her surprisingly quickly for a man of his age and size. The elderly lord had requested her hands be bound behind her for his privileged private session with her. Something Arrawn had again attempted to protest before being silenced by the High Priest.

He had a tendency to talk while he fucked her, Lord Ansel did. He'd mutter under his breath all sorts of depraved and sinful things. Not everyone did this, but _he_ certainly did. After all, this was where one was meant to go to air their sins and have them forgiven. But there was no penitence in his voice, no indication that he felt any guilt over what he confessed.

By now Arrawn would have expected the man to have run out of things to say, things to admit to, but he kept going, even now.

"You've always wanted this didn't you, you wanton thing? All that time and you were the Goddess's creature all along. Hiding that pretty cock of yours from me?" He pulled out of her suddenly and Arrawn watched as Freya tried to awkwardly catch her breath, unable to get up fast enough with her arms bound behind her. "Get up, my girl. I want to see that pretty cock of yours bounce while I fuck you."

The lord didn't give her a chance to get up on her own, instead pulling her up form where her hands were bound and then manhandling her over to the bed. He dropped her down unceremoniously and Freya let herself be maneuvered about like a ragdoll. Her eyes had long been blank and unfocussed. She was gone.

"I could have had you," Lord Ansel muttered to himself under his breath as he simultaneously plunged his cock into her ass and his fingers into her mouth. "I could have had you a hundred times over before they took you. I could have had you…"

Arrawn was about to be sick. Something about _this_ man laying his depraved wrinkled hands on her was some how worse than anything he'd seen so far. It was the epitome of everything that was wrong with this - wrong about everything from the start. He was clearly a sinner, but he did not repent. He had paid to fuck her. He cared not about how he damaged her and neither did the Church apparently. It was too wrong.

Just as the Acolyte was about to lunge forward to put an and to this farce there was a knock at the door, and then one of the Templars entered. "Forgive the intrusion, brother, but there's some kind of commotion with some of Ansel's men."

Arrawn could hear raised voices just outside in the corridor sounding rather close to the room. "Where is your captain?" Arrawn hissed.

"He was called away by Efraim."

"Now? What do you expect me to do about it? I can't leave this room. Go find him."

The Acolyte looked nervous as another crash and eruption of shouts resounded beyond the door. "He left already. They seem to be trying to force their way in."

He looked to Freya and Lord Ansel, and though he was loath to witness it, the noble did seem to be more in control today. He should be able to step out the door for a moment and come back. With a grimace he called Senna over. "If anything goes amiss, anything at all, come get me immediately. I'll be just on the other side of the door. Ensure your sisters know as well. Do you understand?"

Senna frowned and nodded silently.

Arrawn looked to Freya one last time, saw her eyes screwed shut as she arched her back and trembled, much to Ansel's great enjoyment. Something was off today. All of it was off. But he would only be gone a minute…

* * *

"Your guard dog is gone," Lord Ansel crooned into her ear so that the Handmaids couldn't hear. His breath was hot and humid against her skin and if Freya could have cringed away, she would have. As it was, she was being pressed into the bed under his considerable weight, her arms pinned beneath her. "Miserable little shit thinks he can say how I fuck you."

Ansel's hands instantly started to slither up her body, from where he'd been gripping her hips, his meaty fingers digging into her flesh, and up. He made sure to give each breast a rough squeeze, lingering as he leaned over to suck and bite at her nipples. She gasped in pain, but she could hardly even squirm.

When he'd satisfied himself, his hands continued their journey up until they were looping around her neck. For a while he held her almost gently as he grinned down at her. "I've always wanted you. All that time, you were in _MY_ house, under _MY_ roof, but that wench of a wife of mine kept you away. Had you watched like a hawk."

His hands started to slowly close around her throat as he spoke and continued to piston into her. "All her efforts were for nothing!" he said with an almost hysteric laugh. "I've fucked the same cunt the king has fucked! How many of the princes did you take in your tight little ass, hmm? Did the queen suck your cock herself?"

Freya couldn't answer even if she wanted to. Her throat burned and breathing was becoming difficult. She tried to gulp down air, but it came to her as a trickle. Black spots were peaking at the corners of her vision, but she could still see Lord Ansel's gleeful face as he watched her struggle for air.

"You tighten up so nicely when I squeeze, did you know? You suck me right in that needy little asshole of yours." She knew what he meant but she couldn't feel anything anymore but the burning in her throat and the throbbing pain in her head. She couldn't even a make a sound.

Somewhere distance she thought she heard sounds, something other than Ansel's heaving breathless voice. She couldn’t make it out. She could hardly even see anymore. The black spots were closing in, leaving nothing but the lord's grinning face looking down at her as she slipped away for real this time.

It was not so different from what usually happened to her when her mind went away, but it was certainly more painful. The burning, the tears spilling from her eyes, her heart beating so fast; she'd never felt anything like it. All the while her mind slipped further and further into the darkness that clouded her vision.

The only thought that crept into her mind then, was of her priest. She didn't wonder where he was. She had always thought something like this would happen eventually. She only wished she had told him what she'd wanted to when she woke up that day. Her final thought as she fell away was of how much she regretted not telling him what was in her heart.

* * *

"Arrawn!" Senna cried as the door to the chamber burst open. She was panicked, eyes pouring over with tears. "You must come! We can't get him off!"

Arrawn didn't wait another moment, leaving the squabbling Templars and guards to whatever it was that had set them off in the first place. The wretched feeling that had settled over him was bubbling up to the surface now. He didn't even need to set foot back in the room to know what he would find there would be terrible.

But it was horror that struck him as his eyes settled upon the scene. Freya was limp beneath Lord Arrawn as he continued to thrust into her. Her eyes were closed, her face turning red-purple as Ansel squeezed and squeezed despite the horde of Handmaidens trying to knock him off. But they were all wispy little things, and he a large, rotund brute.

Arrawn was on him in a second, barreling into the mad noble, taking him by surprise and knocking him clear off of Freya so he was sprawled on the floor. Some of the Handmaids went with him, crying out in surprise as they fell away. The priest didn't hesitate as Ansel attempted to shake off his shock. His fist connected with the older man's nose with a crack. Then again, and again, and again, until Ansel's face was a bloody mess.

"Arrawn!" He almost didn't stop when he heard Senna's voice again. It was the utter terror that made him pause his vengeance and look back. The girl was white as a sheet where she knelt over Freya. "She's not breathing."

He left Ansel immediately and went to her. There was an angry red ring around Freya's neck where Ansel had squeezed hard enough to cut off her air. He leaned over, checking for her breath and his heart stopped. Without a further thought he locked his lips to hers and breathed for her. Tears brimmed in his eyes while he tried to work, tried to will life back into her.

She could not die. Not like this. Not because of _him_ … Not before he could set her free…

He kept at it. Forcing air back into her lungs until finally she sputtered and gasped, eyes flying open looking wild and terrified. But then they settled on him and she seemed to calm. Arrawn couldn't keep from gasping out a relieved sob, leaning his forehead against her and whispering how sorry he was so only she could hear. He thought Freya was trying to say something, but her voice was so weak and hoarse he couldn't make it out over the thundering of his own heart.

Quickly, he lifted her so he could unbind her arms and as he did so he saw that the Templars had entered and taken Lord Ansel to the side. "I knew it," Ansel spat. "I knew it! The way you look at her. You want her, don’t you, guard dog? But she's the only one you can't have. She can't ever be yours, but she's been mine. She _is_ mine."

Arrawn was about to lunge at him again but Freya raised her unbound arms around his neck weakly and held him still. She nestled her face into the crook of his neck and whispered so only he could hear, "I am yours. I’m yours, my Arrawn."

Instantly an almost sickening calm settled over him. He picked her up, her face still buried in his neck and turned to the Templars, ignoring Ansel completely. "Lock him up. Lock up any of his men who resist and get word to your captain, wherever the bloody hell he is. Lord Ansel nearly killed the Shewolf." Then turning to Senna. "Send for Lynea. Tell her to come to her chambers. Under no circumstances tell Efraim, or send him in her stead. Lynea or no one, understood?"

Senna nodded vigorously, her whole body shaking. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off Freya's neck. Arrawn didn't offer her or anyone else further discussion before he sped out of the room, down the halls and back to Freya's chambers. He went straight to the bath and hastily washed her off, wishing to get rid of every trace of that vile man that he could. He couldn't stand it. Couldn’t stand that Ansel had touched her, defiled her, and nearly taken everything.

He couldn’t stand that he'd left her when he knew he shouldn't have, but he'd never expected him to go that far…

Arrawn hadn't realized he's paused, eyes going unfocused as he stared at nothing, until Freya had raised herself partially out of the water to catch his eye and place a hand to his cheek. She wiped something away, but he couldn't really tell if it was his own tears or the water dripping from her hands.

She didn't try to speak, but she looked at him with those beautiful golden eyes and they said everything. All his composure, his restraint, melted away as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She made just a small sound, a strained sigh as their mouths made contact and her arms came up around his neck again.

His own arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her to him. Bath water soaked through his robes but he didn't care. He didn't even really notice because her lips were on his, her tongue danced with his, and she was _alive_. So alive, he could feel the heat radiating off her body, clinging to her and seeping into him.

The bliss was only momentary. He was only able to forget for a few fleeting seconds before the events from just moments ago all came flooding back. He came away with a strained sob, despite her gasped protests.

"I left you," he cried. "I left you and I nearly lost you. He nearly -"

"Hush! Please, Arrawn." Her voice was hoarse as she tried to quiet him, placing her fingers gently over his lips but he kept muttering; to himself more than her. "Please," she repeated, and the heartache in her voice finally reached him.

She gripped him so tightly he thought she would break the skin. It was like she was trying to keep either him or herself from falling away; perhaps both. "I need you to know," she continued, eyes wide with a strange sort of panic. Like a frightened animal.

"You shouldn't speak -"

"No, I need to say it. I need you to know that I - that you… You are everything to me here. You're the only thing I care about, the only thing I hold in my heart anymore." She trembled a she spoke, but she kept her eyes fixed on his. "I don't know if it's love. I don’t know if I can love anymore… I'm not even sure I would know it for what it is. But I know that I want you and I always have. I know I want you to live, even if I cannot."

"Don't say that," he pleaded, sounding more desperate than he'd intended.

She simply smiled up at him, eyes welling with an emotion they were both too terrified to define. "You will always have me. I meant what I said. I am yours, Arrawn. For as long as I have left."

He silenced her with another kiss. He couldn't talk about it now, not after what had just happened. Talking about it made it real.

Freya held him so tightly he couldn't escape the heat of her body, the need that rose up in him. He'd wanted her for so long but stifled it, and he didn't know what to do now. Doing anything more than this still felt like he was taking advantage. Even this felt like taking advantage. But it was enough. It was enough to know she needed him - wanted him. He didn't really need more. He would take whatever she was willing to give and give her everything in return.

But that would all have to wait. He didn't know how long they'd been standing there; lips and limbs entwined while the bath water dripped off of Freya's naked form and cooled in the basin below. But it was long enough for Lynea to have arrived to see to Freya's wounds.

They drew apart reluctantly, silently searching each others’ eyes for he knew not what. Maybe “searching” was not the operative word, but rather “seeking”. Seeking each other, seeking the comfort and succor that had been denied them both these last long months. Freya managed another of her sad smiles and his heart felt as though it were cracking in two.

He ignored Lynea a moment longer to kiss Freya one final time before calling out that they needed a bit more time.

They finished with the bath. Not exactly taking their time, but not rushing either. Then they left to see Lynea who looked more stricken than Arrawn was accustomed to. He'd never seen her truly shaken by anything, but when her eyes fell upon the rapidly darkening purple ring around Freya's neck she went white as a sheet.

She regained her composure rather quickly. She had, after all, seen much in her many years as a healer. As she sat Freya down and began spinning her spell, she looked to Arrawn, her face drawn and serious. "They're already talking about how you nearly beat Lord Ansel within an inch of his life."

It was minute, but when Lynea mentioned Ansel, he watched as Freya flinched ever so slightly. "For a man so near death he certainly had a lot to say," he replied through his teeth.

"The High Priest will want to see you," she said changing the subject and ignoring his ire.

"Not today. I'm not leaving her again."

The healer did not argue as she continued with her work. Freya sat there in silence as Lynea tended her, but her eyes remained fixed on Arrawn. She looked like she had more to say. Goddess knew he wanted to say more - things that would have to wait until they were alone once again.

By the time the doctor was finished the purple ring was now a much less angry shade of pink. But when she tried speaking, she still sounded hoarse. "I've taken care of most of the bruising, but throats are delicate, it will take time. I'll be back tomorrow to see to you again. I'll make sure you are given at least a few days rest, and I'll have a tea brought up for you. It will sting at first, but it will do you good."

Freya just nodded silently. Before taking her leave Lynea looked to Arrawn sternly, but then she must have seen something - his general state of dishevelment and exhaustion - and she softened. "You should get some rest too, Acolyte. It's been a long day."

All he could manage was a grumble and a nod, but that was enough for Lynea. With one final nod of her own she left them to themselves.

Now that they were alone however, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Freya watched him looking as though she was similarly at a loss. He moved first in the end, going to sit next to her where she was still bundled up in blankets on the bed. He took her hand, trying to distract himself from those big, beautiful golden eyes that looked at him like they saw right through him.

"I don't deserve you. You deserve so much more. You deserve everything."

"Do I?" she asked, surprisingly calmly. He looked up finally then to find her watching him carefully. "I've done nothing especially wonderous with my life, either before or after I came here. I am - I was - just a girl. This is the only thing I can choose for myself. Even if you were right, it's still my decision to make."

Arrawn didn't argue but he still felt like he'd stolen her. He was simply the only person here who didn't treat her like an object or a slave. He did the bare minimum with regards to be a decent human being.

She seemed able to read his thoughts on his face. Enough to know that internally he was distressed. The blanket fell away as she reached to cup his face with one hand and suddenly, he was more aware than ever of her nakedness. Her body had stirred things in him before, for she was beautiful. But never before now had he struggled so to keep himself in check, not even when she'd deliberately gone out of her way to tease him. For he had tasted her, and she was intoxicating, addicting.

Soon enough her lips were seeking his tentatively, almost innocently. Likely she'd never been kissed before today. And then he thought back to her time here. Had she been kissed before she came here? She'd been a virgin. Not exactly sheltered from the ways of the world but not experienced.

He pulled back with some difficulty and he watched her face fall with confusion. "This is wrong," and then he saw her face fall again and elaborated. "It feels - it feels like I'm taking something from you. Taking advantage of you."

"You're not," she insisted. "You're the only thing I've chosen for myself, Arrawn. I _want_ you." She paused then, seeing he was still struggling. "I want you in more than just that way."

He realized then that he hadn't told her anything of how he felt. He'd thought about it every day since she'd arrived, but even after her confession a moment ago, he still hadn't told her. "I think I love you, Freya," he paused as she looked more startled than he'd expected. Surely, she must know. He felt it was so obvious. "Even if you could never love me back, I would love you. I love you but I don’t deserve you. What kind of man let's the one they love suffer like this?"

She hushed him with another kiss, this time hungrier and more desperate. He could only resist her and wallow in his own shame and self pity for so long. She was there in his arms, kissing him, telling him she _wanted_ him, and he wanted her as well. He wanted her so much he would tear down the Church if he had to if that was what it took to keep her. The realization cutting through the lust like a lightning bolt.

They were interrupted again when someone came with the tea, which Freya obediently drank as she'd been instructed. Though the hot liquid seemed to go down painfully.

"Will you stay with me tonight? I don't mean - I just… I don't want to be alone." Suddenly she sounded so young and afraid and lonely. It was like all the walls they'd built up between them had been torn down and now they just… _were._

"Of course." _Whatever you want. Anything you want. Always…_


End file.
